


broken pieces

by dustofwarfare



Series: broken pieces [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Consensual Incest, Demons, Father-Son Relationship, Forced Cohabitation, Incest, M/M, Multi, Work In Progress, angsty, not!redeemed!sephiroth, plotty relationship with incest and demons!, snowed in a cabin, weird inhuman demon sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-02-09 08:18:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 51,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/pseuds/dustofwarfare
Summary: Hoping they've identified a new, planet-friendly energy source in the Northern Continent, the WRO enlists the help of Cloud Strife and Vincent Valentine to investigate. Their discovery might not change everyone on the planet's life, but it certainly will change theirs in ways they never expected. (WIP, post-ACC/DOC, eventual Sephiroth/Cloud/Vincent).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pixeled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/gifts).



> SO MANY NOTES TO START THIS ONE OFF.
> 
> First, this is for Pixeled, who is a doll and has been entertaining me through weeks of travels and illness <3 We've been having the most fun RPing all kinds of things, one of which made me want to write her a long involved angsty threesome incest story with DEMON SEX, because that's the kind of friend I am I guess?? 
> 
> SECOND, just so no one starts reading this and then is like /YOU PULLED A VC ANDREWS ON ME, DUSTY, full disclosure ahoy: this fic features Vincent-as-Sephiroth's-father and therefore will have **eventual (consensual) incest**. 
> 
> Also Vincent still has Chaos because a)DOC canon makes me kind of rageful as well as confused and b)I want him to, because I like demons. Also, it has one of my favorite tropes ever which is forced cohabitation in a snowstorm, I refuse to apologize. 
> 
> Title from the Apocolyptica song, because my goal here is to write about broken pieces becoming whole. Even through consensual father-son incest and demons. Don't judge me. :|

 

Broken Pieces

Chapter One

The World Regenesis Organization’s headquarters was a busy place, full of determined, bright-eyed people moving around with a singular purpose. They smiled a lot, Vincent noticed, even at him; a man for whom _eccentric_ was the kindest possible description, swathed in red and hiding blood-spill eyes behind a dark fall of hair.

“Vincent!” Reeve Tuesti’s smile was the same as it had always been, kind and a little amused, as if he found Vincent’s choice in attire worthy of a chuckle; somewhat hypocritical, thought Vincent, for a man who often went about disguised as a talking cat with an atrociously irritating accent.

“Reeve.” Vincent nodded at him, taking the seat he was offered and making sure the edges of his tattered red cloak weren’t caught beneath the legs of the chair.

“Thank you for coming,” Reeve said warmly. “I know you’re not fond of Edge.”

Vincent wasn’t fond of _crowds_ , and Edge happened to be where they were; so by default, yes, he was often uncomfortable there. It wasn’t just the crowds, though. Sometimes Vincent thought he could still feel something looming over the city; the plate, Bahamut, Sephiroth’s unholy storm clouds, whatever it was, the city seemed destined to be in shadow.

Perhaps that should have made him more comfortable there, all things considered.

“It’s fine,” he said, because he wasn’t about to explain any of that to Reeve. The WRO was an organization built on optimism. Vincent had never suffered a surfeit of that particular emotion, even before the casket and his long sleep in Nibelheim.  Turks had been trained to suspect the worst as a rule. “What did you want to see me about?”

“Well. I need your help again. Not quite like the last time, though, I promise.” Reeve gave him a genuine smile. It wasn’t politician-slick; he must have been one of the few executives at ShinRa whose charm wasn’t manufactured. Then Vincent remembered the cat suit.

_No one is ever what they seem._

“No more hidden sect of super soldiers?” Vincent asked. Reeve laughed, as if Vincent were joking.

“No, nothing like that.” Reeve’s smiled dimmed a bit. Deepground had been a sobering reminder that evil lingered even in the brightest of promises, the most anticipated of futures. “As you know, we’re trying to find alternate power sources now that we’re no longer relying on mako. Wind, water and solar power, mostly. But it’s going to take time, and while ShinRa has promised to help finance the construction of the appropriate equipment…we need to think about a more immediate solution.”

Vincent studied him. It wasn’t that he mistrusted Reeve, exactly; though to be fair, Vincent didn’t trust anyone. He believed Reeve had the best of intentions, but so had ShinRa, back in the day. Vincent was old enough to remember that, the old commercials.

_ShinRa Electric Power Company – Your Choice For a Brighter Future!_

Ah, back in the days when there’d been a choice at all.

“You mean oil.” Vincent remembered that, too. The house he’d grown up in had gaslights.

Reeve nodded. “Partly, yes. It’s…we’re being very careful. We don’t want to anger the planet, and oil…in some way, isn’t it the same as mako? A natural fuel harvested from deep inside the planet. Just like coal, it’s always something we’re tearing out, stripping away…”

Vincent didn’t think it was the sort of observation that required an answer, so he said nothing.

“At any rate, we need to figure out ways to incorporate more planet-friendly options in a way that’s affordable.” Reeve shook his head. “If there’s one thing we can say about mako, it’s that it was cheap.”

That was true. ShinRa’s original rise to power came about because they were able to give everyone electricity, hot water, whatever they needed – for a fraction less than they’d been paying. That often went forgotten in the aftermath of all their crimes. Mako had been convenient, and cheap. But the price they’d all paid in the end had been dear indeed.

“We’re doing the best we can, and Edge is mostly functioning with minimal power outages. Outlying areas, though? That’s an entire other story.”

Vincent knew that well enough. He was living in Kalm, and the price of electricity – and the frequent outages – was a common topic of discussion among disgruntled townsfolk. “So I’ve heard.” Vincent dealt with it by not having electricity. It wasn’t as if he really needed it. “What is it you want, Reeve?”

Reeve leaned forward, dark eyes sharp as he met Vincent’s own. “We’ve located a power source somewhere, but it’s…complicated.”

Of course it was. Vincent waited.

“For two reasons. One, it’s in the Northern Continent, so…that always complicates matters, just given the location and the resources it takes to get there. There’s only a finite amount of time to undertake a journey, and the location where we’ve located the potential resource…even in the months where it’s accessible, there’s a perpetual blizzard. We think…perhaps the planet is trying to conceal it.”

Vincent thought about storms above Midgar, the blinding snow in Icicle, the caverns that led deep into the planet’s core where they’d fought Sephiroth. “Then maybe you should leave it alone.”

The tone in his voice was different than his usual taciturn gruffness. Reeve could tell; his gaze turned shrewd, the lines around his eyes and mouth from an unhappier sort of tension. “We don’t want to take what the planet doesn’t want us to have. But how do we know? It’s the Northern Continent. The weather there is cold, and snowy, and unpredictable.”

Frustrated, Vincent almost got up and left. “There’s a potential resource – like mako – that the planet is hiding from you. What’s so hard to understand about that?”

“Because the resource is located in other areas that _aren’t_ besieged by a constant storm. It’s easily accessible during the summer months, and so far, we’ve had no problems extracting it.”

Well, of course they’d already tried. Vincent resisted the uncommon urge to lean over and thwap Reeve on the back of his head.

“We just want to know if this storm is a significant warning sign…or just a storm. An anomaly.”

“I’m no weather expert,” Vincent said, “but it seems to me like a storm that doesn’t stop is more than an anomaly.” He went to stand. “Leave it alone, Reeve.”

“We will. I promise. Vincent, please just listen to me.” Reeve half-stood, clearly in supplication. “We could send a team, but it’s difficult to outfit one for that kind of expedition. And it’s dangerous. There are very few people who can survive those conditions, even with the proper equipment.”

“Ah.” Vincent sat back down, arms crossed over his chest. “You want me because I can’t freeze to death. Since I’m already dead.”  

“Um.” Reeve colored, and cleared his throat. “I – Vincent, really.”

“Your cat would have made a joke about that,” Vincent said. “So what you want is for me to go to the Northern Crater, traipse into a blizzard and see if the planet wants you to have whatever power source you’ve found…which is what, exactly?”

“It’s water,” Reeve said, smiling with the excitement of an engineer with a new discovery. “Water with a high concentration of a certain mineral found only in the rocks in that area. It’s fascinating, really. Apparently when the –”

“Reeve,” Vincent interrupted. “My father was the scientist. Not me.” He pointed. “If it has anything to do with Jenova –“

“It doesn’t,” Reeve interrupted. “Believe me, Vincent. We checked. And, all right, yes, your unique biology makes it possible for you to survive the conditions, and we were hoping you might be willing to conduct an investigation for us.”

“As I said. I’m not a scientist.” Vincent studied him. “How would I even know what to investigate, or what information to collect for you?” He knew what water looked like, but – wasn’t that what snow was made of?

“Don’t worry. I’ll send something with you – and no, not a cat robot, before you ask. Non-sentient, but all you have to do is take samples and record some data.”

Vincent cocked his head. “You realize. If this is the planet trying to keep you away…you are sending me to disturb it, along with its last remaining weapon.” Inside, he felt the demon stir, blinking awake like a lazy cat. “Perhaps that’s not an ideal situation.”

“Well. We thought about that. If Chaos has no immediate objections, I think that’s a good sign. And we won’t send you alone, Vincent. The only other person with the fortitude to survive such a journey…just happens to the planet’s champion.”

They were going to send him with Cloud Strife. Of course. Cloud, who despite sharing Vincent’s profound desire to be left alone, never could seem to say no to Reeve either. “You think you’re very clever, don’t you,” said Vincent, and beneath it was the echo of another’s words; a growl like the earth had shifted, like primal fire given voice.

Unfortunately, Reeve was too much a scientist to be cowed by the trickle of a demon’s presence. _Like my father,_ Vincent thought, as Reeve leaned forward in clear expectation. _He never knew when to leave well enough alone, either._

“Does Chaos have any objections?”

“It seemed like you might have started with that.” Vincent turned his focus inward to his demon.

_Well?_

_((Are you asking if I care if you go out and play in the snow, Vincent?))_

_I’m asking if I’m walking us into a trap._

_((You’re walking into cold feet if you don’t get warmer socks.))_

Vincent frowned, but gave a slight shake of his head. Chaos had been weakened in the fight against Omega, but if the demon had strong feelings, it would make them clear. “I don’t think he cares one way or another.”

“Interesting you call it a _he_ ,” Reeve said, a disturbing expression of unholy fascination on his face. “Is that because he inhabits you, or did he have a gender prior to being…ah. Infused?”

“You mean, forced into me by the woman I loved?” Vincent stood up and pushed his chair in under the table. “Enough. I will accompany Cloud and retrieve your data.” He had nothing else to do, and lately he’d only been able to sleep beneath his bed, or in the closet. The weight of immortality was heavy, the endless stretch of time more often than not a burden.

Vincent had become a Turk, expecting to live fast and die young. How stupid he’d been.

“Thank you, Vincent,” Reeve said, standing as well. “Please believe me. If there’s something in that storm the planet wants to conceal, we will respect its wishes and it will stay hidden.”

Vincent paused. There was one last question he had, and surely Reeve would expect it. There was something other than Jenova that the planet might be trying to conceal in the Northern Continent. “This thing the planet is potentially hiding…is there a chance it’s _him_?”

Reeve sighed. “The readings aren’t consistent with a human, or anything that was once human. There’s no trace of Jenova, either. I can’t say for certain, of course, but…given what happened a few years ago in Edge, with the Remnants and Cloud’s battle, I don’t think there’s a physical body left.” Reeve’s voice went quiet. “There’s something I need tell you, Vincent. It’s about – about Sephiroth.”

Vincent sighed. He knew what this was, this revelation, and it was the last thing he wanted to talk about. “It’s all right, Reeve. I know he was my son.”

“You do.”

Vincent nodded. “How did you find out?”

“After Deepground, we went through the files from the secret laboratory. Whatever else you could say about Hojo, he kept immaculate data on his subjects, even when one of them was him. Apparently a childhood bout of mumps rendered him sterile and unable to have children. And he…made a note about Sephiroth in one of the files, and it referenced his biological father as a _former Turk_.” Reeve’s gaze was cautious. “How did you learn the truth?”

“I strongly suspected when Lucrecia told me she was pregnant that the child was mine.” He had no intentions of providing any details to Reeve, and he made certain that was clear in his tone. “Then I saw him, and…I knew.”

“It must have been hard to fight against him, knowing that.” Reeve’s voice was kind, but Vincent mistrusted his interest. His suspicion of scientists and their inquiries was deep-seated and well-grounded, proven true by years of experience. He did think Reeve Tuesti meant him harm in the slightest, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t cause it.

“By that point, he was Jenova’s child and no one else’s.” Vincent’s voice was flat. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell Cloud.”

“I didn’t intend to. You were the only person who should know, and I destroyed the records before anyone else saw them.” Reeve sounded tired. “I’m your friend, Vincent. I hope you know that.”

Vincent did know that, and he hated it.

Because betrayal always hurt the worst when it came from someone who claimed to care about you.

“Tell Cloud to find me in Kalm when he’s ready to go,” said Vincent, and left in a swirl of red and regrets

***

“Cloud! Sorry I’m late, would you believe another one of those weird religious people showed up at the bar?”

Cloud looked away from his perusal of the spires of Aerith’s church and gave Tifa a small smile. “Bar’s not even open right now. Seems like a poor time to try and convert people.”

“I know, that’s what I said!” Tifa rolled her eyes. “And they don’t just take no for an answer. I was two seconds away from punching them and seeing if their morals would save them or what.”

“Which ones were they?” Cloud asked, amused. “The kind who think it’s our right to use mako and miss the good ol’ days of endless hot water, or the kind who think we should all live in huts and eat berries and chant flowery poetry to make the planet forgive us?”

“The huts-and-berries ones. Aggressive ones, though. They’re probably just hungry for protein.” She shook her head. “I understand the idea behind yearning for a simple life, but we can’t all live in a hut in Edge. First of all, you’d never get any sleep.”

That was true enough. Whenever he went on a delivery, Cloud was reminded how _quiet_ it was outside of the city, and it always took him a day or two to adjust. As if silence was its own kind of noise. “Did they want you to serve drinks out of coconuts or something?”

She snorted. “They probably think we should all just drink water. Out of coconuts. Or who knows, maybe those are sacred, too. I mean, I get it. The planet deserves our reverence but…I mean. I don’t think it cares if we have a beer now and then. In a glass, even.”

“Besides.” Cloud frowned. “Alcohol is natural, isn’t it?”

“Since when did people make any sense?” Tifa shook her head. “I know people are trying to find their way back to feeling safe, but honestly. Go clean up some rubble and let other people spend a few gil in my bar, that seems a lot more useful to me.”

Tifa’s attitude was as practical as ever. It was one of Cloud’s favorite things about her. “What did you want to talk about?”

She started walking, heading inside the church. Cloud followed her in, eyes adjusting to the dim light. The church hadn’t changed much in the few years since the miracle that had healed the Geostigma. There was still water in the nave, and the Buster Sword still rested in its bucolic little alcove. The main change was the flowers; those that grew in the church, and those brought by quiet, thoughtful visitors.

It was a much better version of religion than no alcohol and living in a hut. Cloud had no idea why this place drew people who likely never knew Aerith, but it wasn’t his place to ask.

There weren’t any visitors as they walked through the church, skirting the edges of the calm, quiet pool of water.

“So,” Tifa said. “You’re going to meet Vincent in the morning?”

Cloud nodded, hands shoved in his pockets. “Yeah.”

“I can’t believe you’re really going back there. And so close to winter, too.” She shivered. “Too bad they didn’t find this mysterious power supply in Costa Del Sol.”

Cloud gave a shake of his head. “I think they wouldn’t need me or Vincent for that. But, hey. If I end up having to spend the winter there, they’ll pay me enough I’ll probably be able to rent the old ShinRa villa for a month.”

Tifa frowned, and Cloud wished he hadn’t said that. There was a reason he didn’t talk much; he so often said the wrong thing. “I still can’t believe they won’t wait until after the winter.”

“It’s fine,” Cloud assured her, again. “Reeve says we shouldn’t need more than a week at the most at the site. As long as we make good time on the way there, we should be out before the first winter storm hits.”

“Hmph.” Tifa’s expression showed what she thought of that. She supported the WRO, but Cloud knew she thought they were idealists who should be more focused on the immediate infrastructure issues in the city, or on things like healthcare and the education system.

Cloud privately agreed with her. Everyone thought it was strange he was so content to be a self-employed delivery driver, but when you save the world a time or two, sometimes all you wanted was to fall back into being part of it.

“I have to tell you something.”

Cloud glanced over at her. Her face was set, and she was staring at the Buster Sword – Zack’s sword, as Cloud thought of it – resting in the fading natural light of the alcove. “Yeah?”

“Three weeks ago, Barret asked me to marry him.”

Cloud blinked. “You’ve been engaged for three weeks, and you’re just now telling me?”

“No. I – I didn’t say yes.”

That was even more of a surprise. Tifa and Barret’s relationship had grown slowly, given Barret’s schedule and working away from Edge, but it was strong. Cloud had expected Barret to propose eventually, but not for Tifa to refuse. “You said no?”

Tifa turned to face him, her chin tilted. Her pretty eyes were the color of strong tea. “I said I couldn’t. Not if he was going to be gone all the time. I can’t…I can’t stand it, him showing up and leaving again.”

Cloud felt guilty, even though she wasn’t talking about him. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop that.” She hit him on the side of the arm. “I know this has always been hard for you to understand, but you are not responsible for every negative feeling other people have.” She smiled. “Yes, watching you come and go like you were under some compulsion made me realize that I couldn’t have that in romantic relationship. And that’s a good thing, Cloud.”

“Tch.” Cloud shook his head. “I guess if I can help you figure out what you don’t want, then that’s something.”

“Cloud.” Tifa put her arm through his. “You’re ridiculous. And yes, it is a good thing. Because two days ago, Barret called me. He decided to take a position with the WRO, so he’ll be coming back to Midgar. Permanently.” Her smile was bright and happy. “So I’ve only been engaged for two days, not three weeks.”

Warmth bloomed in Cloud’s chest, and he turned to her. They didn’t hug often – Cloud kept his distance from most everyone – but this seemed appropriate. She was his oldest friend, and she had fought beside him, fierce and unstoppable. She had brought him back to himself when he’d been lost in the haze of his own broken mind in Mideel. She deserved someone who loved her, would stay with her, and appreciate the wonderful person she was.

Someone far better than him.

“Good,” he said, closing his eyes and holding her fiercely. “I’m glad. You two … well. You’re loud and I guess I don’t get the fighting all the time thing, but –”

“Cloud!”

“I’m happy for you.” He pulled back and smiled at her. “Are you going to get married while I’m gone?”

“No! Of course not. You’re gonna be my mate of honor, I decided.” She moved away, knowing his tolerance for physical affection was low, even from her. She did, however, tuck her arm in his as they resumed their walk. “In the spring, so even if you do get stuck in the Northern Crater for a few months, you’ll be back. Also, first thing when Barret gets back…we’re going to buy a house. And Barret wants to adopt Denzel.”

Cloud was not surprised by that, either. Barret loved kids as much as Tifa. They’d probably have their own eventually, too. “Denzel okay with that?”

“Well. I think he’s still holding out hope for one day being Denzel Strife.” She giggled. “Maybe when he’s twenty he’ll figure out what _no, really, we’re just friends_ means.”

Cloud, predictably, blushed and felt absurdly guilty. Denzel wanted them to be the parents he’d lost, and it made sense. He really was the last person to figure out that Tifa and Cloud would never be anything but friends; even living together and raising the two kids, they’d had separate bedrooms, separate lives.

Marlene had figured it out first, telling Denzel during her birthday party, of all places, _don’t you know my daddy and Tifa are in love, silly?_ It’d been memorable because Tifa and Barret hadn’t even started dating yet – though perhaps they’d started doing other things, Cloud never asked and didn’t want to know.

“You’re getting a house…does that mean you want me to move out so you can, what, rent the upstairs of the bar?”

“Of course not. That’s your home, silly. But if you want to find your own place, then we could probably find someone to rent it. For a good price, too. That place is worth twice what I paid for it.” Pride was evident in her voice. She should be proud. She’d put so much work into the bar, into the home she’d made there.

Tifa, who craved stability. Cloud, who chafed beneath even the thought of it. It was probably the main reason they’d known they’d never be more than good friends.  

“It’s fine.” Cloud shrugged. “It’s got a bed and the phone’s already hooked up for the delivery service.”

She shook her head at him fondly, but said nothing. They walked quietly until they reached the edge of the pool. Tifa surprised him and knelt by the water to dip her hands in, closing her eyes and murmuring something beneath her breath. She raised her hands in quiet reverence and took a sip of the water, then said in a voice that wasn’t just hers – “Cloud, come here.”

Cloud glanced around, noticed the sun shining impossibly bright on the water given the time of day, then sighed and did as instructed. Aerith’s ways were mysterious and surprising – it had been years since he’d had even an inkling of her presence here, but he knew it when he felt it.

 “For a safe journey,” she said, and then, “drink.”

He mimicked her and dipped his hands in, cupping them, though he was always a little iffy about the state of the water in the church given the fact it _was_ in a former slum. But the water tasted clean and cold, and he sipped it and thought, _for a safe journey,_ though he felt a little silly. There was very little left that could kill him, and Vincent was even more indestructible than he was.

Still. Saying no to Aerith, even her essence, was always impossible.

Cloud yelped as a shock of cold water on his head made him startle, his eyes flying open. Tifa was splashing him. “Hey! I don’t think this is what she meant…!”

“Uh-huh. Is so. Who do you think told me to?”  

“Yeah. Well. I think she’s telling me to throw you in there,” said Cloud, which wasn’t true, but he doubted Aerith would mind. His heart clenched with a pain that had faded but never entirely vanished, but he didn’t mind. She was worth his grief, even if he knew it would bother her if he lost himself in it as he had before. They didn’t wear ribbons anymore, but Cloud had his tucked away somewhere safe. Sometimes he thought he could still feel the faded threads of silk on his skin where the Geostigma had eaten away, a slow cancer.

“I think we should have the wedding here,” Tifa mused, as they headed back toward the exit. “That way Aerith can be there, too.”

Cloud had a feeling Aerith would be there even if Tifa _did_ have her wedding in the Northern Crater. “Then I’m definitely throwing you in,” he said, and followed her outside.  

***

_The darkness was everywhere but where he wanted it – inside him, dissolving him, claiming him. Instead it surrounded him, taunted and mocked him, made him curse it and crave it in equal measure._

_Breathe in, breathe out, wait for the dark to twine like vines inside of him, break him apart into nothing…but it never did. It only waited; patient, eternal, disinterested._

_It was all he wanted, but it did not want him._

_Then there was something, a little glimmer of light, tiny like a pinprick. He tried not to see it, not to notice, but once he did…that it vanished almost immediately did not keep him from waiting to see it again, finally seeking something in nothing._

_That he waited, that he wanted…that was the worst of all. Hope was the thing that would keep him from the dark._

_Hope was the thing that would wake him._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cloud sees Vincent Valentine in a whole new light, Vincent deals with his quiet-but-still-mouthy demon, and someone who should be sleeping starts to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For now there are multiple POVs in each chapter, but that might not stay the same as the story gets going. Thanks for reading! <3!

Cloud had intended to leave at a reasonable hour in the morning, but he was halfway to Kalm before the sun rose.

He’d been unable to sleep and it seemed silly to sit around and wait; he’d rather avoid the unnecessary drama of leaving, if at all possible. He’d already patiently endured dinner with the kids and Tifa, called Yuffie and Cid and Nanaki (though how Nanaki answered phone calls – Cloud still wasn’t sure about that), assured everyone he thought would care that he’d be fine. That was emotionally exhausting enough that he didn’t want to repeat it at some ungodly hour of the morning.

So he slung his pack over his shoulder and paused at the door, frowning. Cloud had come and gone from this room plenty of times over the years, driven by his chronic wanderlust and compulsion to _escape_ , _run, go._ He wasn’t the type to look and think _what if I never come back,_ especially because he was, when it came right down to it, impossibly hard to kill.

But for the first time he had a strange sense of foreboding; not that the mission would go badly, necessarily, since Cloud anticipated problems as a rule. More that he’d come back…different, changed somehow, in a way where this familiar room with its worn furniture and faded curtains wouldn’t be home anymore.

That it had become home was perhaps the strangest feeling of all.

Maybe it just meant that he’d come back and Tifa would be living in a house with Barret. Maybe he _would_ find a new place to live – Shiva knew he wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter. He had plenty of money if he wanted his own place, and with Tifa and the kids in a stable happy home…hell. Maybe he’d fuck out of Midgar and, like Vincent move somewhere else. Somewhere quiet.

Like Nibelheim, but without the painful, haunting memories of fire and death and loss.

 _Is there anywhere on the planet you don’t have bad memories of?_ Cloud rolled his eyes at himself, hopped on his bike, and lost his thoughts in the roar of the wind and the blur of the city as it faded into the distance behind him. He relaxed as the buildings grew farther and farther apart, until the only thing on either side was the countryside and Edge was a blurry mess of steel behind him.

Kalm was a few hours ride without traffic, and the town had yet to rise by the time Cloud arrived. He felt bad roaring through the sleepy town on his motorcycle so he idled the back and coasted to Vincent’s house, which wasn’t that far away from the center of the town.

Cloud considered just waiting outside for a bit since it was so early, decided he was being ridiculous, and went to knock quietly at the door. Vincent didn’t sleep much, or at least, Cloud didn’t remember him sleeping much when they’d been traveling together. None of them had.

The door opened. “Cloud,” Vincent said, in his voice that sounded like a growl that had fallen into a pit of gravel. “You’re early.”

“Yeah.” Cloud stepped in, knowing Vincent wouldn’t have extended the invitation if he hadn’t honestly meant for Cloud to come in. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the house, and Cloud went still as he took in the sight before him.

Cloud had known Vincent Valentine for almost a decade by this point, and Vincent’s particular brand of immortality meant that he never changed; he looked exactly the same as he had the day Cloud had found him in the basement of the old ShinRa mansion. Cloud was used to the shocking red of his ratty cloak, the buckled cowl that kept his face hidden, the red bandana that held back the mess of his dark hair. He’d seen Vincent change into a variety of strange creatures in battle, he’d seen Vincent embody the planet’s weapon as it fought Omega – fanged and horned and winged, magnificent with his eyes glowing amber and his skin the color of a stormcloud.

But whenever the battle was over, Vincent always regained his familiar appearance – cape, cowl and all. This was the first time in all the years Cloud had known him that he’d seen him without any of it. Vincent stood before him dressed only in boots, pants and a shirt.

Beneath the voluminous folds of his cape, Vincent was a tall man who was far more lean than Cloud imagined. He’d clearly bathed that morning and his hair was damp and bushed back off his forehead, so Cloud had an unobstructed view of Vincent’s face. His crimson eyes were wide and darkly-lashed, his cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and his mouth wide and full. He was – gods, _beautiful._  

Cloud realized how long he’d been staring when Vincent raised one single black brow at him.

“You – you look younger than I do,” Cloud blurted, because he had to say something. And it was true – Vincent, though close to seventy years of age, didn’t look a day over twenty-five.

“No I don’t,” Vincent said, immediately. That dark, ochre voice coming from that pale, stunning face threw him, because the voice was so _Vincent,_ imbued with the years of experiences that didn’t show anywhere else. “I’m your grandfather’s age, Cloud.”

“I don’t have a grandfather.” Cloud’s eyes ran over him again. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know I’m staring. I just…had no idea.”

“No idea?”

Cloud flushed when he realized what he’d meant. _I had no idea you were so attractive._ Also, it wasn’t true – he’d always thought Vincent was attractive, even hidden by the cowl and the hair – so he tried to figure out what to say. “That you looked like a model.”

Vincent shook his head and turned away. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Cloud went to the light switch on the far wall but flipping it did nothing. He wandered into the kitchen, cold and dark, unsurprised to find not so much as a mug or a bag of tea.

“Do you even have electricity?”

“Didn’t seem worth it,” Vincent called, from somewhere upstairs. “I don’t eat, and I can see perfectly fine in the dark.”

“So you take cold showers?”

“There are worse things.” Vincent re-appeared, and he’d fastened his gauntlet on his left arm. He was still not wearing the cloak, but his red bandana was affixed, and it made him look a little more familiar. He stood at the counter and opened his bag, then methodically started filling it – with guns, materia, and a variety of potions, ethers, and a few other remedies.

On his right arm, Cloud noticed, he was still wearing Aerith’s ribbon.

“Are you concerned about what we might run into?” Cloud nodded at the bag. He himself had his sword and mastered materia, but Vincent seemed prepared for an apocalypse. Maybe it was just habit, by now.

“No.” Vincent clearly had a system as he checked and re-checked his firearms, his materia bracer, the gauntlet. “I just like to be prepared.” He looked up Cloud. His dark hair was beginning to dry, and he looked more like himself with it falling over his forehead.

“If you cut your hair,” Cloud asked, without thinking, “Does it just grow back?”

Vincent regarded him steadily. “Yes. Doesn’t everyone’s?”

Cloud shook his head at himself. “Yeah, but…sorry. Dumb question.”

“It’s all right.” Vincent finished his preparations and grabbed his cloak. He swirled it around himself, buckled it up – and then he looked like the Vincent Valentine Cloud knew, swathed in crimson, bright red eyes were sharp and alert. “Are you ready?”

Cloud just nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

***

The journey to Junon was uneventful. Cloud drove Fenrir and Vincent settled behind him, moving easily with the sway of the bike and thinking about that morning. He was confused by what had happened, why he’d allowed Cloud to see him without the cloak, without the cowl or the headband or even his gauntlet.

It was as naked as he’d been in front of someone in – gods. Longer than Cloud had been alive, probably. And Vincent had no idea _why_ he’d done such a thing, shown such vulnerability in front of Cloud.

Vincent spent little time at home looking in a mirror, but he saw his reflection enough to know what he looked like. The same as he had the day Hojo had shot him in the chest, albeit with longer hair (he still wasn’t sure exactly why his hair grew but nothing else changed) and the missing arm. Except, of course, for the scars that riddled his body beneath his clothes.

Cloud didn’t see those, of course. Never would. But it had been…pleasant, for a moment, hadn’t it? To have someone look at him with such appreciation? Unless he’d mistaken the look in Cloud’s eyes for something else.

_But you shouldn’t like that. Remember what happened last time. Lucrecia called you gorgeous. Hojo used to whisper how beautiful you were when he fucked you. You’re nothing but a monster._

That was the reason he kept himself cloaked, hidden. He was a dead thing that should not be, an aberration. Isn’t that what he’d been dreaming about, the last few weeks? Waking up ensconced beneath his bed, or in the closet in his bedroom?

The night after he’d met with Reeve and agreed to this mission, Vincent had woken up in the bathtub. The next night, it had been the small crawlspace under the stairs – dreaming vividly about Hojo’s manic laughter and Lucrecia’s soft voice saying _Vincent, please, I’m sorry – Vincent –_

The night he’d dreamed of Sephiroth he’d woken with tears on his face and that was the last time he’d tried to sleep.

Maybe he’d allowed Cloud to see him like that, stripped as close to bare as he ever got, because he wanted someone to see him as something other than a monster.

 _((Or maybe you just want to fuck him_ )), Chaos said, dryly, his voice a sandpaper rasp in Vincent’s head.  

 _I like you better when you’re quiet_ , Vincent thought at it.

_((You missed me.))_

_I did not._ Vincent sighed, because he couldn’t lie and perhaps part of him _had_ missed the demon’s sardonic presence. _I did not miss your opinions,_ he amended. _How’s that._

Chaos laughed, and Vincent shivered. _((I know what else you missed, my host. Have you thought perhaps that’s why you’re thinking of taking a mortal lover? Do not worry. I cannot satisfy you as I have before, but only for a little while longer. I’m gathering my strength, my dark one.))_

Vincent huddled in his cowl and scowled. It was true, since his interment by Hojo he’d been celibate – at first, it was too confusing for the various beasts within him, roused by simple lust into wanting things that had nothing to with sex; to feel flesh tear beneath the chainsaw, to hunt and rend a throat with sharp teeth. Galian at least knew what it was to want to fuck, but it was rarely for anything other than dominance. Afraid of the condition he’d leave his lovers in when he was finished, Vincent had simply refused to take any.

It had been Chaos, seductive and dangerous, who had offered him solace. Chaos, who could manifest somehow while Vincent was still aware so that it felt like the demon was touching him; claws and horns and too-sharp teeth biting over his skin, around his cock…it wasn’t quite the same as a mortal lover but it was, in some ways, better.

 _((How nice to know you appreciated me, all this time, and what I could do for you.))_ The demon’s faint voice was wicked. _((Until I can once more make you tremble and arch beneath my influence, you have your memories. Or this pretty little morsel. He does smell so good, doesn’t he?))_

Somewhere in the dark reaches of his mind, Vincent heard Galian howl.

 _Stop this._ Vincent closed his eyes and concentrated on the wind, the way it felt on the small amount of exposed skin, the roar in his ears. And Cloud’s lean, lithe body in front of his, moving like an extension of the motorcycle on which they rode.

They stopped a few miles outside of Junon, and Vincent sat cross-legged on the grassy hill and studied Cloud covertly, taking in the young man’s appearance, thinking on how much he’d changed since they first met in the ShinRa mansion. Cloud had been almost unnaturally pretty, back then; all wide, big blue eyes with a perpetually dazed look, a result of either the prolonged mako exposure or the confusion of thinking he was someone else.

Cloud had aged, and while his eyes were still wide and bright, the haze of confusion had been replaced by a steely, quiet resolve. His face was youthful but had, over the years, become more sculpted; his cheekbones weren’t sharp but they were more defined, and while he hadn’t grown an inch over his five-feet-seven, his body was as perfectly honed as his sword; lean, hewn muscle that he knew how to wield. He might not think it of himself, but Cloud Strife had grown into a man comfortable with his own physical power if nothing else; and Vincent, who had always thought him a pretty man, hadn’t found him _attractive_ until they’d battled Bahamut Sin.

He’d been surprised by the revelation, but perhaps he shouldn’t have been. Vincent liked clever people and always had; Cloud’s newfound ruggedness was less of a draw than his quiet confidence, and Vincent had noticed him then in a way he hadn’t before, in all those long months they chased Sephiroth across the planet.

He’d never said anything, of course, partly because he had no idea which way Cloud’s preferences ran.  In all the years they’d known each other, Vincent had never known him to be romantically interested in anyone, man or woman.

 _((Oh, he likes men, Vincent. Ask him. He’d tell you._ ))

“Hush,” Vincent murmured, and it wasn’t until Cloud gave him a look that he realized he’d spoken aloud. A testament to how he’d become used to being alone. “Sorry. I was speaking to Chaos.”

“He’s awake?” Cloud leaned back on his elbows. It was late fall, enough that it was cool in Kalm but here, nearer to Junon, the summer lingered in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

Vincent gave a rough nod. “He’s…I don’t think he could manifest now, but yes.”

_((Don’t tempt me, dark one.))_

Vincent rolled his eyes inwardly at the demon. _That’s your area of expertise, not mine._

_((You don’t give yourself enough credit, my host. You attract and tempt plenty.))_

An unwanted image of Hojo flashed behind his eyes. Vincent ignored both his literal demon and his metaphorical one and focused instead on Cloud.

“Does he think the Planet will be angry at us, for going to the Northern Crater and finding whatever it is that’s hidden in that storm.?”

“He hasn’t indicated anything of that nature.” Vincent was unsure how to explain the complicated symbiosis of his relationship with Chaos in a way that made sense. “If he knew for certain, he would inform me. But he might not know. And there could be other dangers, of course, that we cannot fathom.”  

“How comforting.” Cloud tipped his head back, exposing the long, lean lines of his throat. Vincent had a sudden, strong urge to straddle Cloud’s lean hips, sink his teeth in and _bite_. It wasn’t just the beasts that wanted it, either.

“I’m afraid if you want comfort, you’ve chosen the wrong companion,” said Vincent, and perhaps it was foolish but he was gratified at the sound of Cloud’s laugh, ringing out quiet like a song in the late afternoon air.

“I mean. It could be worse.” Cloud gave Vincent a small, reserved smile that nevertheless made his eyes look as blue as the sky above. “You could be Yuffie. You’d talk my ear off and steal all my materia.”

Vincent’s own laugh was quiet and restrained, but as genuine as Cloud’s smile. They were a good match. The world was not in imminent danger, and Vincent already felt better being away from his small house – perhaps this trip would be good for him.

“We should go. We have to meet the helicopter in a few hours, and I know Reeve made sure we’re stocked up but there’s some stuff I want to pick up, just in case we do end up stranded in the snow for a few months.”

_((I can suggest some things you might want to pick up just in case, Vincent.))_

Vincent ignored his demon and climbed back on the motorcycle. They were supposed to fly to the Northern Continent, spend a few weeks hiking to the crater, and then conduct their investigation. It would take another few weeks to return to meet the helicopter to return to Junon. Unless something went wrong on their trek and the first winter storm hit – which would mean two months, if not more, that they’d be required to fend for themselves before meeting back up with the WRO transport.

Vincent didn’t necessarily want to spend a winter in the most inhospitable place on the planet, but he wasn’t eager to return to his cold, dark little house in Kalm, either. Perhaps when he returned it might be time to think about moving, or taking some sort of permanent position with the WRO, as Reeve was forever offering.

The weight of immortality, the knowledge that the rest of eternity spread out before him…it could be difficult to motivate oneself into action. He was forever caught in a strange place between the living and the dead, and Vincent had spent his life since his re-awakening vacillating between extreme activity and boredom. Maybe there was some better sort of balance to be found.

***

_One pinprick of light became three, became six, became ten._

_Tiny things that glowed like stars, careless and disinterested._

_He tried to ignore them, to look only at the dark, dream only of oblivion. But the light distracted him, and as much as he wished it would fade back into nothing, it did not._

_It just grew, inexorable, unstoppable. Like his hate, like his fear, like all the things he wanted the darkness to take away, to make him forget._

_Even the stars died. In time, perhaps he would, as well._

 

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cloud and Vincent catch a ride to the Northern Crater, and Vincent and Chaos have a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some inhuman demon dream!sex between Chaos and Vincent; it's not super graphic but, uh. It's weird. JUST PUTTING THAT OUT THERE.

Chapter Three

Junon was perhaps the only place on the planet that still maintained some sense of ShinRa identity; even more so than Edge, who wore its allegiance to ShinRa in the slump of twisted steel, the debris from a crisis for which they were universally blamed. ShinRa still existed, though the company was smaller now, focusing on aiding the WRO’s efforts rather than rebuilding itself. Popular opinion for the former juggernaut was at an all-time low after Deepground, and Rufus Shinra had proven himself smarter than his father when it came to knowing when to be in the limelight and when to work quietly behind the curtain.

ShinRa money flowed into the WRO, along with equipment and, though no one wanted to think too much about it, military provisions of both supplies and manpower. Junon was home to the second largest population outside of Edge, full of WRO members and former Shinra employees; primarily the military, who had gravitated to the WRO simply out of a need for structure and service.

Cloud had served as a Shinra infantryman but had never been to Junon, not until his quest to stop Sephiroth took him there following the former Shinra president’s assassination. He’d donned a uniform and participated in Rufus Shinra’s inaugural parade, marching in stiff boots through immaculate streets, the ShinRa logo flying on flags and hanging like some proud sun over the town.

Junon had suffered during Meteorfall, and like Old Midgar, boasted more than a few burned husks of buildings. But the military sensibilities of its residents had been surprisingly helpful in the rebuilding efforts, and Cloud had watched as, over the years, the town had come back to life. It wasn’t necessarily an attractive town but it was a functioning one, and as travel to the western continent had begun to pick up over the last few years, there were even a few touristy hotels near the docks where the ferries ran to Costa Del Sol.

Cloud and Vincent stocked up on some provisions for their upcoming trip, with Cloud silently raising his eyebrows at the prices – inflation was rampant, especially the farther away one got from Edge. He couldn’t imagine how much things cost in Gongaga, if a few tents set him back a couple thousand gil.

Junon still had materia for sale, but the use was strictly regulated, given they were still unsure if the Planet considered materia as sacrosanct as it did mako. Cloud had plenty of materia leftover from his various trials and tribulations, and the necessary qualifications to purchase whatever he wished; Vincent was the same, though the shopkeeper viewed them both with suspicion as he led them to the back of the secure area where it was kept.

There wasn’t much – it was all low-level and mostly restorative – but Cloud picked up a few, more to mollify the shopkeeper than anything. Vincent insisted on paying, saying he had more money than he’d spend in the entirety of his immortal existence, and Cloud figured that would come in handy should they have to buy anything in the Northern Crater. They planned to stay a night in Icicle; hopefully it didn’t bankrupt the WRO if they expensed it.  

They went to a pub for quick meal, then Cloud took them to the garage near the airstrip where he was going to store Fenrir for the duration of their quest. Cloud gave the fifth iteration of his instructions for the bike while Vincent leaned against a wall, arms crossed and radiating what probably appeared to be brooding silence but which, Cloud knew, was really amusement.

“Listen up, kid,” the man growled. “Been looking after vehicles since ‘afore you was a glint in your mama’s eyes. You get that?” The guy had the cadence of someone who’d been in the military his whole life, probably from some slum in Old Midgar, and who’d likely lived in Junon since before the canon was even built.

“I built this myself,” said Cloud, because he knew men like this, and what to say to make them understand. It was sort of like talking to Cid.

As expected, the gruff man’s voice softened just a little. “Well. Spiky, you don’t got to worry. I’ll look after it and even change the oil, iff’n you want.” The man burst into laughter at Cloud’s expression. “Kidding, kidding. You think I don’t know when I should keep my hands off somethin’?”

Cloud paid him extra and went to meet Vincent, his pack slung over one shoulder and the weight of his sword resting comfortably on his back. Vincent had bought his own supplies at the store, in addition to his weaponry and the bag he’d brought from Kalm, but there was no sign of it. Cloud figured it was somewhere in that cape and didn’t ask.

 “You need anything else?”

Vincent shook his head, and they made their way toward the airstrip. Cloud gave a final, longing look at his motorcycle as they left.

“It’ll still be there,” Vincent assured him.

“I know.” Cloud had a hard time explaining that to anyone that his motorcycle was more than just a fancy, badass piece of machinery he’d built from scratch. It was freedom, it was self-reliance, it was more his home than the little room above Tifa’s bar back in Edge.

“I think you probably convinced that man to take it for a ride, though,” Vincent said, a hint of sly humor in his gruff voice. “He probably thinks it could drive across water.”

“Yeah, well. He might have the keys, but he won’t be able to start it.” Cloud smiled. “I made sure of that. Fingerprint recognition. I’m no amateur.”

Vincent gave a low laugh and shook his head. The laugh moved through Cloud like a shot of liquor, warming him from the inside. Maybe it was a good thing he’d never seen what Vincent looked like under that cloak before today. When he’d been younger, it would have been arousing _and_ confusing. Cloud had spent a long time on that journey to fight Sephiroth trying to understand who he was, especially after Mideel, and that included understanding his sexuality.

“Cloud?”

He blinked, glancing at Vincent almost guiltily. Not the time, or the place – and probably, given that Vincent was most likely straight, not the right person, either. “Uh. Sorry, I – sorry. What?”

Vincent nodded ahead, where a helicopter waited on a pad. “I’m guessing that’s our ride.”

The WRO’s helicopters were mostly repurposed from ShinRa, the company’s distinctive logo either faded or completely covered by that of the WRO. This one still bore the familiar black-and-red, though, and the two figures leaning against it were wearing the traditional blue suits of the Turks – both of whom Cloud immediately recognized.

This was Rufus’s bird, then. Cloud exchanged a brief glance with Vincent, who shrugged as they made their way closer.

“Cloudy, there ya are.” Reno, with his vibrant red hair and distinctive tattoos, was impossible to miss. He pretended to check his watch, even though they were at least thirty minutes early.

“Reno.” Cloud had long since given up telling Reno not to call him _Cloudy._ It was the least offensive of all his nicknames. He exchanged a nod with Rude, and the silent Turk gave him one in return.

“Valentine.” Reno nodded at Vincent, sounding more respectful than he ever did, unless he was talking to Tseng or Rufus Shinra himself.

“You’re not gonna call him Vinny?” Cloud asked, before he could stop himself. Vincent’s eyes felt like a fire spell aimed at the side of his head.

“Nope.” Reno grinned at him around his cigarette. “Valentine’s a Turk. I respect my elders, Cloudy.”

“I am not,” Vincent groused quietly, “a Turk.”

“Once a Turk, always a Turk,” Reno said with a shrug. He glanced at the two of them. “You ready or you want to kick it in town for the night? Know a place where Turks get good discounts, best gin on the coast.”

“I can’t get drunk,” Cloud reminded him.

“Don’t mean you can’t drink, does it?” Reno finished his cigarette with a flourish. His eyes scanned the sky. “It’s fine to fly but you’ll be touching down in the middle of the night, and there’s not much daylight anyhow right now. If you wait we’ll at least get you there with some sun.”

“If Cloud wishes, we can delay….but it makes no difference to me,” Vincent said. “I see the same regardless.”

“Lot colder in the dark. Though I G-guess that’s why they’re sending you two.” Reno shrugged and shoved his hands in the pockets of his perpetually-disheveled suit. “Ain’t no skin off my nose either way, boys. Rude, you ready to go?”

“Yup.” Rude slid his glasses over his dark eyes and moved to the opposite side of the chopper.

“Got a shit ton of supplies in here, but most of ‘em, we ferried over a few days ago. Boss wants to make sure you don’t freeze into a Cloudy-cicle, you bein’ a hero and all. Thinks it’d be bad for publicity.” Reno smiled and opened the door for the two of them with a little bow. “Ain’t very comfortable, but at least there’re seats.”

Vincent climbed into the helicopter in a wordless swirl of crimson. He stopped and held his hand out, which Cloud grasped and let Vincent pull him up into the belly of the helicopter. The brief contact made him feel warm like Vincent’s laugh. He met Vincent’s red eyes, wondering for a moment if they glowed a bit brighter as a result of the small contact, then mentally shook his head and moved further into the helicopter.

As Reno had said, there were boxes of things covered by a bright blue tarp, secured to the floor with bungee cords. There were two seats in front of those, and Cloud dropped his bag and his sword and kicked back on one, legs stretched out so his boots were resting on top of his bag. He crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. He didn’t get airsick anymore, but sometimes, he still expected that he would.

Reno and Rude did whatever was necessary to get the helicopter ready, then the quiet was split by the roar of the engine and the whirl of the blades. Cloud looked over at Vincent, who was mimicking his pose, long legs spread out in front of him, head tilted back and eyes closed.

“So,” Reno called, cheerfully, oblivious to the fact Cloud had never one time enjoyed talking to him. “Going to find us some new mako, eh?”

“No,” Cloud said.

Reno cackled, clearly undaunted by Cloud’s caustic response. “You know what I mean. Hear whatever you’re lookin’ for is water with some kinda fancy mineral?” Before Cloud could inquire how the hell Reno knew that, Reno laughed again. “I’m a Turk, Cloudy. It’s my job to know stuff.”

It made Cloud uneasy to think there were still Turks gathering information for Rufus Shinra, but, well, it wasn’t as if he didn’t expect it. Rufus without his Turks was as inconceivable as Cloud without a sword or Vincent without his cape.

Still. “I don’t know.” Cloud wasn’t super interested in the specifics; he’d agreed to go and that was that. “If it’s anything like mako, though, we’re leaving it alone.”

“Hey, no arguments here,” said Reno. “Only thing I miss about the mako is the guaranteed hot shower in the morning. You share a house with two people, one of whom’s a girl, you don’t get a lot of those.”

“You take longer to wash your hair than she does,” Rude said.

Cloud closed his eyes, hoping Reno would go back to bickering with his partner and ignore him. It mostly worked, and at some point it didn’t matter, because Cloud fell asleep.

He woke up, disoriented, when they stopped to refuel in Rocket Town. He wondered where Cid was, and wished for a moment they could have caught a ride on the _Shera_ – it would have been nice to be with friends instead of Turks, and there were more comfortable places to sleep on the _Shera._ But Cid was an integral member of the WRO and the airship was needed for far more important things than ferrying two people to the Northern Continent.

Reno and Rude had switched places after refueling, which unfortunately meant that Reno could chatter more since Rude was concentrating on flying. How he did that with Reno’s running diatribe, Cloud had no idea. Maybe it helped him stay awake. 

Cloud glanced over at Vincent. He’d barely stirred when they’d stopped to refuel, refusing to get out and stretch his legs, get a snack – but of course, he didn’t need to do any of that. Cloud had seen Vincent drink before but only at social occasions and never very much. He’d never seen Vincent eat anything.

Right now, though, Vincent looked asleep – his legs stretched out, arms crossed, chin tilted down so he looked enfolded by the cape and cowl. Cloud wondered if the cowl had the ability to block out Reno’s voice. Maybe he’d have to get one, if it did.

The ride was relatively smooth and if he concentrated on the sound of the rotors, Cloud could mostly tune out Reno. Eventually he was able to doze if nothing else, which was useful considering they’d be required to start trekking immediately upon landfall in the Northern Crater. Cloud might be uniquely enhanced enough to survive the conditions, but that didn’t mean they’d be enjoyable.

***

Vincent hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the drone of the rotors and the gentle motion of the helicopter was more effective than he’d thought at sending him off into slumber. He didn’t need sleep but he supposed he liked it, on occasion – it passed the time, if nothing else.

Still. How long had it been since he’d fallen asleep without necessarily meaning to? He’d simply meant to discourage the loquacious Turk from trying to involve him in any sort of conversation. But soon after they’d set off from Rocket Town, he’d found himself dozing.

And in his dream, he was with Chaos.

The demon was quiet as it recovered from its battle with Omega – whatever that meant, since Vincent wasn’t entirely sure what had happened or how Chaos had been injured – but even when it wasn’t resting, Vincent couldn’t see it if he were conscious. He’d just started to retain a little bit of awareness while transfored before the Deepground incident, and he wasn’t sure if that would carry over once Chaos returned to his full powers.

But in his dreams, that was another story.

Vincent had a general idea of what Chaos looked like when he appeared to others and manifested through him.  Chaos fused with Vincent’s appearance, taking on certain physical attributes to a point; his skin took on a decidedly blue-ish hue, his eyes gleamed a bright amber instead of red and he had a pair of long, bat-like wings instead of Vincent’s cape. And Vincent had woken up with blood in his mouth enough times to ascertain he also had a pair of very, very sharp fangs.

When he saw Chaos in his dreams, the demon was a lot different since obviously it was not tethered to Vincent’s appearance. It was a tall creature that seemed to be made from shadow itself, though the bright yellow eyes were the same.

Like any proper demon, Chaos in his mind had horns and a tail, even if it only had those because that was what Vincent’s subconscious conjured up at the word _demon._

“The tail is a nice touch.” Chaos flicked it with a flourish. Vincent saw a sharp smile, a row of fanged teeth.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve visited me in my sleep,” said Vincent, studying it. This had happened before, but not recently. And never had Chaos looked so…insubstantial, before.

“Your dreams lately have been tiresome,” said Chaos. His voice was the same as it was in Vincent’s head, a symphony comprised of bells and the hiss of a thousand serpents. “Your mortal regrets have always bored me.”

“Mm.” Vincent looked around the details of the dreamscape; it appeared to be a room made of stones that glowed like coals, and Chaos was seated across from him, sprawled sinfully on what appeared to be a throne. Vincent looked down. He was seated on a bed draped in dark silk, his wrists cuffed with blood-red leather. “This is very subtle.”

“It’s from your subconscious, my dark one. Your desires.” Chaos stood, and he was tall – taller than Vincent, though it was hard, in the dream, to put an exact height to the creature. “Lay back,” it purred. “All your thoughts of sex recently have made me…intrigued.”

“Intrigued.” Vincent lay back on the bedding, which rustled beneath him. “You can’t do this now. I’m surrounded by people.”

“As if that would ever bother me.” Chaos moved toward him in strange, jerky movements that were decidedly inhuman. He crawled up on all fours, and as he came closer, Vincent realized that the details were still vague and hazy – meaning he looked like a bright-eyed shadow, incorporeal as smoke. “Usually I see more of you.”

“That’s because I…embellish….your mental idea of me. You’re not very imaginative, Valentine.” The smile was too-wide, all sharp teeth, inciting a delicious response of arousal and dread. “But I’m not quite strong enough to improve on your elementary-school horror design. Yet.”

Vincent frowned. “Then leave me be.”

The being stared down at him, and Vincent was caught by the vastness of those amber eyes; they were a universe unto themselves. Limitless, endless. He shivered. “I didn’t imagine that your eyes….” How did one put that into words? “They look like what’s left when a star dies.”

“Poetic, my host.” The demon’s gaze grew so that all Vincent could see were those starlit pools of amber; they grew and shifted so that they burned almost white, just for a moment, and Vincent swore he saw _things_ moving in them, things that had never been and should not be.

Vincent blinked; the demon’s eyes morphed back into amber and its smile was mocking. It looked nothing like a human, but there was something that felt very much like a human cock pressing against Vincent’s own.

“Ah, my dark one,” the demon purred. It leaned forward, slowly, and opened its mouth. Vincent wanted to look away but did not; its tongue snuck out, forked like a snake, and licked at his neck. “I look forward to tasting you when I am returned to my full powers.”

“Is this – aren’t you – “ Vincent shuddered; it had been a long time, and his neck was very sensitive. “Don’t tire yourself,” he ordered, gruffly, and it was partly out of concern for the creature and partly out of his own discomfort at doing this when he knew he was asleep, knew who was sitting next to him….

“Yes. Your pretty Cloud.” The demon shifted, drawing a claw over Vincent’s chest – or what felt like a claw, even if it might not have looked like one. “It has been a long time since your fantasies have worn a face.”

Vincent frowned. The turn of phrase was odd, and uncomfortably horrific. “I simply – find him attractive. You know that.” There was nothing that Vincent knew that Chaos did not also know. He hissed as the claw bit into his skin, his chest bare to the demon’s ministrations, clothing having vanished in the easy way of dreams. “Chaos.”

“Yes?” The demon settled over him, a warm pulse of darkness. The touch was like nothing he’d ever experienced in waking life. Unless a warm rush of water could nip with teeth, wrap a clawed hand ( _clawed, like Vincent’s own_ ) around a cock and start to stroke.

“When I take your flesh,” the demon murmured, his odd way of phrasing _manifest_ , “I always want to play with this part of us. So sensitive. And the way it makes you shiver.” A long, single talon drew down Vincent’s most sensitive flesh. Even though it was a dream, Vincent went perfectly still from an instinctive fear of being cut.

“You don’t fear it,” Chaos laughed, and the sound so close to his ear made Vincent break out into goosebumps. The demon’s clarion laugh always sounded as if it contained multitudes. “You would like it if I made you bleed, licked the blood from your cock….”

Vincent turned his head away, trying to get his bearings. This was a dream, and if Chaos were to cut him, it would not make him bleed in his waking life. He knew that from experience.

But he also knew that the same would not be true if he came, and if they continued…

“I don’t want this, not now,” Vincent said. He reached one hand out and drew it over the demon’s wing – or the thin, shadowy thing that stretched, wing-like, from the demon’s back. It felt like smoke stretched over the thinnest of paper.

Vincent had, in these shared stolen moments between them, dug his nails – both human and his own talon-ed hand – into Chaos’s wings. He’d been able to touch and tease the demon, to tear at its unworldly skin, to make the demon come in bright, burning pulses. But the creature was too insubstantial for that now, and thought it was perhaps foolish, Vincent feared harming it.

“You cannot hurt me, dark one. That you would think so offends me.” Chaos’s fangs dragged down Vincent’s throat. “I am not at full power, true, but do not assume that I am weak, or in need of your misplaced _concern._ ”

The thing was impossible to care for, Vincent had learned, and wondered how much of that was because of the demon, or how much of it was because of him.

He ran a hand over the suggestion of a wing and said, “Perhaps I don’t want to bother until you can make me scream.”

“Oh, but I could. I could do that with just my voice, hmm?” Chaos’s hand moved on Vincent’s cock, faster, and talons pressed at his entrance in a way that would not be possible in the waking world. “Spread your legs for me, dark one. I want to take you.”

“You – already – have me,” Vincent panted, but he spread his legs anyway. “Don’t make me come.”

“Your modesty is as tedious as your regrets,” Chaos informed him. “And you forget, it would seem, that it is impossible to lie to me. I know what you want even if you voice different words.” His fingers slipped inside of Vincent, but became something else – tendrils of smoke, of shadow, sliding up inside of him, up and up, to the wrist. The demon slid its other talon into Vincent’s mouth, its wide eyes becoming perfect circles. “Take me, then.”

The fingers in his mouth slide down his throat, losing shape. Vincent swallowed, over and over, shuddering as the demon’s phantom fingers became his wrist, his elbow, his arm. Chaos gave a pleased sound that had no human equivalent and the creature began to shift as Vincent consumed him.

“That’s it,” Chaos hissed, melodious, pleased. Vincent’s eyes were wide as he struggled not to choke, watching as Vincent swallowed the demon as if he were eating him whole.

It made Vincent choke, made his cock throb, the demon gradually disappearing inside his body through his mouth and the place between his legs, even the tip of his cock and then, when the demon lowered its face to his, through Vincent’s nose, his eyes, his ears.

For a moment he couldn’t breathe; it felt like drowning, the sound of Chaos’s wings beating over and over, closer and closer now as Vincent swallowed the whole of the creature inside of himself, a spider swallowing a fly, or perhaps a fly forced to swallow a spider.

_((My host, you please me))_

The voice was in his head now, the wings beating against the roof of his mouth, inside his throat, his neck arching and his body cold as the dark thing that had draped itself over him was now slowly consumed back inside, inside –

The creature spoke, in a language no human could translate, and Vincent closed his eyes and felt the beat of Chaos’s wings in his esophagus, his chest, his heart – then his stomach, and lower, in his cock, his balls, against his prostate –

\-- and then he woke up in his seat with a jerk as he came in his pants, silently but so hard his vision turned white, white like that momentary glimpse of the universe in Chaos’s eyes, the creature’s love song a slow and steady hiss in his ears that faded into nothing along with the pleasure.  

“You okay?” Cloud asked, his voice sleepy, as if he, too, had just awoken.

“Yes,” said Vincent, in a voice like broken glass. “It was just a dream.”

 

 


	4. chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening's interlude at Icicle Inn before the quest begins; in which Cloud and Vincent both battle old memories, and someone else starts having memories of old battles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Pixeled for the Vincent-beast-beta :D :D :D 
> 
> Content advisory for some disturbing body-horror imagery; it's not graphic, but it's there. 
> 
> Slight NSFW content at the beginning, as well.

Chapter Four

Icicle looked the same as Cloud remembered; a small town comprised of clusters of log-constructed houses, overshadowed by row after row of towering pines. The first time Cloud had been here, it’d been winter – but there’d been a lot more people. It was strange enough that he mentioned it to the woman as they checked into the inn.

“Not a lot of people visit here anymore,” the innkeeper said with a shrug, handing Cloud a room key. “We were mostly a tourist town before Meteor.” She glared at Reno and Rude, as if blaming them personally for the lack of tourism. “Now, people aren’t really vacationing and besides. Takes a lot to keep the place up and running, without mako. It’s expensive. Lots of folks are just closing up and moving, not even bothering to sell their houses.”

Cloud hadn’t thought about that, but it made sense. The cheap and readily-available energy provided by mako made it easy to build a tourist town around what was originally a science outpost.

 _Costa Del Sol of the North_ , they used to call Icicle. Meteor hadn’t seemed to affect the town itself or the surrounding nature, which was as lovely as ever. But people weren’t traveling to far off places to vacation anymore, and the town was relying on costly oil and dodgy electricity.

It was a fucking mess, no way around that.

“You two ShinRa?” the innkeeper asked, her eyes narrowed at Reno and Rude in their Turk-blue.

“Yeah.” Reno winced. “You want to charge us double? It’s cool. Boss’ll pay. He gets it.”

“You can sleep in one room, but I’m charging you for two,” she said. “And it’s not on account of you two being a couple, that doesn’t bother me, I’ve got a wife at home.”

Cloud hid a grin and watched as Reno paid for two rooms on the first floor without a word, then promised solemnly not to take too hot of a shower.

Reno, indomitable as ever, just grinned and said with a sly look at Rude, “I know how to keep warm. Even without our girl here. We’ll just call her and climb under the covers, yeah?” 

“Let’s get some dinner,” said Rude, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.  

“I can barely think of being in a relationship with one person,” Cloud said, as he and Vincent left Reno and Rude and continued to their much warmer rooms on the third floor. “Much less two. Wonder how that works? Maybe it’s easier if you work together.”

“It isn’t,” Vincent mumbled. He stopped at his room. “Good night, Cloud.”

Cloud blinked, but he nodded and watched as Vincent disappeared into his room.

That night Cloud resisted the urge to take a long shower, mostly out of guilt and the innkeeper’s words. The room was nice and warm, though, thanks to the fire and the warmth rising to the third-floor. He thought of Reno and Rude shivering on the first floor and smirked.

But then he remembered Reno’s words, and how they’d planned to stay warm….and thought about Vincent, alone in the other room, and…keeping _him_ warm.

Cloud lay in his bed, trying to remember if this was the same room he’d been in years ago and unable to remember. He didn’t like to think about the trip here, that first time, before he’d been put back together in Mideel. That was when he’d handed the black materia over to Sephiroth.

Cloud had been with men, anonymously and sort-of not, and no pleasure he’d ever experienced had been to equal to that, the sense of _rightness_ , when he’d reached through the crystal and placed the means to call meteor in Sephiroth’s hands.

_Those eyes opened – they knew me – I did what he wanted and it was so good, nothing has ever made me feel like that._

Cloud’s eyes opened. He was hard. His hand drifted down and he put the image of Sephiroth out of his mind, thought instead of the last man he’d gone home with. Cloud had put the man – a bearded redhead with a filthy mouth that would rival Cid’s –on his hands and knees and fucked him. It had been good, rough and hard, but it wasn’t holding his attention as he stroked his cock.

_Good boy, Cloud, yes, such a good puppet –_

Scowling, Cloud’s eyes flew open and he stared up at the ceiling. No. He wasn’t thinking about that. He exhaled, slowly, and thought about another encounter, with another man. This time, it was Cloud getting fucked. It was a good memory, being overwhelmed and pinned down (even if he was letting the man do it, he had to, with his strength), and what was his name, it was – Cloud couldn’t remember but he’d had dark hair, like Zack, Zack who’d been the first man Cloud had fantasized about, really fantasized about, a man he’d met and _not like Sephiroth, Sephiroth, the thought of whom could make Cloud come if he imagined just being noticed by him, being good enough to earn his regard, being good, that’s good, Cloud, such a good puppet, thank you, my good boy –_

Cloud was stroking himself hard, panting, arching up in the bed and he was close just from remembering it and he made himself stop, again, because _no,_ this was the worse thing, the very worst, the betrayal that burned like a sickness through his veins. This shameful thing made him unworthy and nothing he’d ever done would make up for it, how good it had felt, how he came thinking about handing it over, and maybe it was just because he was here but no _you think about it, Cloud, I know you do,_ Sephiroth’s voice, purring, silky and terrifying.

 _On your knees,_ he’d said, on the ShinRa Tower.

Gods, Cloud had wanted to --

No. No. _No._

Cloud shoved all of it out of his head, and thought instead about Vincent. Yes. He could think about Vincent. No one ever had to know.  

What would Vincent want, in bed? To pin Cloud to the mattress, crawl on top of him, talk to him in that shattered dark voice, tell him what to do, how to please him…?

_Touch me, Cloud._

_Suck me, Cloud._

There, that was – better, the image of Vincent’s sanguine eyes beneath that fall of dark hair ( _not mako-green and silver and no, no_ ), staring down at Cloud, making Cloud fall apart and making Cloud take his cock. Vincent was good, safe – Vincent had stood by him, fought with him. Cloud was close, so close now, his toes curling and thighs flexing as he neared his peak, the image of Vincent’s intense, beautiful face and – Sephiroth _good boy, good puppet –_

Vincent keeping him safe, under that blood-red cloak, Vincent fucking him, harder, hard like he deserved, punishing him for daring to – for –

_Yes, Cloud, so good, my puppet, come for me, you can’t escape me, you’ll always be mine, my hand will always guide you, stroke yourself harder…_

Cloud’s eyes flew open and he heard the noise he made, a shout that sounded like _no_ and _yes,_ a sob, fighting the same fight over and over again, the one in which pleasure was pain and guilt and abject humiliation, all of it rushing through him with his orgasm. There was the single sublime moment of pleasure where it didn’t matter it just felt good, but that didn’t last because it never did.

Despite the warmth of the room and soft bed, Cloud felt cold; frozen in places that would never be warm again.

He dreamed of a man trapped in ice with mako green eyes and midnight black hair, friend and foe both, who laughed when Cloud handed over the black materia…and then shot him in the back with a gun and the softest whisper of an apology.

***

Vincent did not want to sleep.

The demon was quiet after their interlude on the helicopter. Vincent had laundered his pants and heard, faint like the whistle of the wind through the hearth, a sound like a soft laugh. The pants were drying in front of the hearth, and he was in plain black sweats and no shirt, showered and staring at himself, shirtless, in the bathroom mirror.

He was forcing himself to look at the scars.

Forcing himself because earlier he had felt a strong compulsion to go to Cloud’s room…and do something. Offer himself as a lover? Cloud was the planet’s champion. He was young, strong, brave, and beautiful. Vincent was a monster with a terrible past, a love that should have never been and desires that shamed and horrified him.

Vincent touched the worst of the scars, the Y-incision on his chest where Hojo had autopsied him after shooting him in the chest.

_Maybe it’s easier if you work together._

The rest of his chest and stomach were similarly scarred. Incisions from Hojo. The vicious-looking one from where Lucrecia had buried the proto-materia in his deadened flesh, to keep Chaos under his control. Marks where, after his first transition, he – as Galian – had tried to tear his own spine out with his claws. That one went from the top of his shoulder and down his back. He wondered if it had worked, if he’d re-grown his spine. Those first few years were a haze of broken bones and torn muscles, warm blood and pain that consumed him whole.  

His back was almost worse than his chest – there was no Y-incision, but along with the slashes from Galian’s claws, there were a thousand other marks of cruelty etched like a roadmap across his skin. The sweats covered his legs and the gruesome scars where he’d had the ligaments of his knees torn out, one by one, to see if they would grow back. If they would grow back.

 _I don’t want to kill you,_ Hojo whispered, his dark eyes glittering with madness and love. He smelled like cloves, like Scotch. _I need to know that nothing will, Vincent. You are mine, forever._

At some point the scarring had stopped – maybe after Hojo had decided that forever had come and gone, and no longer cared to haul him out and play with him like some deranged toy.

And no matter what Hojo had done to him, he’d never once touched Vincent’s face.

 _My handsome, beautiful Vincent,_ Lucrecia used to murmur, stroking her clever fingers over his cheeks, his eyebrows.

 _Mine_ , Hojo would say, fingers tight in Vincent’s hair – he said it in bed with Vincent, when he had Vincent spread open on his table, when he watched impassively as Galian tried to claw out his own spine, as Gigas tore his own leg off with his chainsaw.

 _Mine,_ Hojo said, when he shot him in the chest and watched him die on the floor.

 _My dark one,_ Chaos whispered, enticed _. My host. Give in to me, and I will make sure any who touches you suffers…_

Chaos did not care that once, Vincent had loved them both, Lucrecia and Hojo. In the end, Vincent had decided not to care, either. He let Chaos take him, and Hojo was gone now, finally, and Vincent was free.  

Vincent closed his eyes. He was a monster, and he was not worthy of a human’s touch. Certainly not one like Cloud, who shone so bright with the light of truth and goodness. What was Vincent but some dark beacon, irresistible maybe to madmen and demons and beasts, but unable to help innocent women and save his own _son_?

Sephiroth’s face, beautiful and cold, flashed behind his eyes. Vincent remembered watching as Cloud took him down in the Northern Crater, watching light rend that perfect face, that beautiful body. Vincent had left them all after Sephiroth’s defeat, claiming he was needed in Midgar, wanting to be anywhere but near the body of the son he’d failed so terribly.

If he had been stronger – he never would have let himself be locked up in that tomb.

 _It’s for the best, Vincent,_ Hojo had said, helping him in. _I will keep him safe, but you must stay here._

No. Vincent did not deserve to go to Cloud’s room, to ask to go to bed with him, to put his hands on him. Vincent did not deserve touch from anyone, not when the last man for whom he’d burned had been so irredeemably evil. He was a monster. Not a man.

_((Stop this. I have gazed on the world as it was made and seen monsters that make the seas shake. You are just a man, Vincent. A remarkable man on some days, to be sure. But pain does not make you a monster, my host. Pain makes you human.))_

_I’m dead,_ Vincent reminded the demon, annoyed at its meddling. _And I thought you were tired._

 _((Oh, my dark one. I am very tired. Your mantra of self-recrimination is uninspired and singularly uninteresting. Think more about fucking the pretty young blond.))_ The demonic whisper turned sly, teasing. _((You want to go to him because he wants you, why don’t you understand that? The scent of his lust…what? You don’t believe me? Ask your beast. It knows the truth even if you, as ever, ignore it in favor of your own special brand of gloom._ ))

Vincent frowned. His eyes glowed a bit amber beneath the crimson. “You should have tired yourself out more when you accosted me in my dreams, demon.”

The demon laughed its broken-bell laugh, a clarion echo in Vincent’s head.

_((Duly noted, my host. I simply do not understand why a human with the promise of life eternal is so determined to live in misery.))_

Vincent didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth lifted briefly. “Humans call it irony, demon.”

_((I assume that would be amusing, were I a human.))_

_Probably not. Go back to sleep,_ Vincent thought at it, and felt the demon curl up inside of him like a great bat wrapped in its own wings.

He pulled his shirt on and went back into the room, sitting cross-legged on the bed, and unhooked the gauntlet. He had no intention of indulging Chaos’s taunt, but he found himself curious and thought gently at the wolf-beast that inhabited him.

_Galian?_

A soft, snuffing sound was his answer. It was hard to communicate with Galian unless he changed, and the thought of the requisite blood and pain required to undergo the transformation was exhausting.

Hellmasker and Gigas had been dormant for years, so much so that Vincent began to wonder if they were still there. He had assumed they’d faded into Chaos’s much stronger personality, but with Chaos as weak as he’d ever been, Vincent could not seem to reach them. Just a curl of bloodlust, and nothing more.

 

Galian was still there, though. Vincent could feel him, and with Chaos resting, the beast seemed more attentive to Vincent’s gentle inquiry. It made a noise like a growl, and it was somehow a question – the beast wanted, simply enough, to know if it was time to hunt.

“No, Galian,” Vincent murmured. He felt a sudden and simple yearning to be outside, in the fresh air and with the snow under his paws…was this where Galian was from? He knew nothing about the beast and it could not communicate like Chaos/

Galian was not a frightening presence in his mind – but the same was not true for his beast’s manifestation. It was a primal thing and it could not be reasoned with. When it wanted to hunt it would hunt; if it thought it needed to kill it would kill; if it wanted to put someone in their place it would do so with its teeth around their neck.

Chaos was a product of the Planet itself, but it functioned by a set of ethics and rules and was capable of sentience and speech. Vincent hated losing himself to any of them, but Galian’s transformation was the most painful and his impulses the most frighteningly brutal in the way of the animal kingdom, kill or be killed, hunt and protect, dominate or die.

Vincent felt his bones start to stretch and lengthen; he knew he had to stop thinking on the beast or it would rise. Vincent turned his thoughts elsewhere, willing his body to stay as it was.  

He thought, for some reason, of his son. If, during that final battle, Sephiroth had seen him as just another foe trying to stand up for a planet he believed needed to die. Perhaps that was for the best. In the end, all Vincent could ever be was his enemy.

***

_He did not sleep._

_But sometimes, he would dream._

_He dreamed of the sky and the cold, the light that broke him into whatever he was now; rage and an empty place, devoid of the voice he called Mother._

_He thought of a man with dark clever eyes and a wild laugh who smelled like cloves._

_He thought of man with a sharp widow’s peak and dark blue eyes who rarely smiled and spoke of honor like a lover._

_He thought of a man with aquamarine eyes who smiled often but was never happy._

_He thought of a man with eyes like the summer sky and an infectious laugh who was never sad._

_And he thought of a man with hair the color of wheat, eyes that burned –_

_\--burned, burned, burned –_

_He burned, didn’t he, yes, he did, first in a cold dark room that smelled like mako and ozone and then somewhere very near, in the cold, torn apart by light while something pure and holy stopped the death he’d called down from the sky, the sky, something about the sky, the man with the eyes that burned had something to do with the sky –_

_Clouds and a swirl of black, the stain of death, a sweet girl with a smile that never faded even when he drove a blade into her heart, death from above, that’s all he ever was, death from the sky, from the clouds, the clouds, clouds clouds clouds_

_Cloud._

_His eyes opened. The light began to swallow the dark._

 


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Northern Continent isn't known for its hospitality -- even to the Planet's champion and its weapon. Sometimes you gotta get a little creative to keep warm. 
> 
> (Vincent/Cloud NSFW content)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is basically like 6K of Cloud and Vincent hiking in the snow, a discussion of what it would be like to live in a post-dystopian society following the collapse of the corporate juggernaut pseudo-government, and then the most ridiculous excuse for two characters to bone, ever. 
> 
> And werewolf cuddles.
> 
> Thanks to Pixeled for betaing this chapter for me! 
> 
> (I might have taken a few liberties with Galian's appearance, I claim artistic license.)

Chapter Five

The cabin where they made their base was not, as it turned out, the one Cloud remembered from their first journey. It was newer, and fitted for electricity – gas and electric – instead of mako. Reeve had overdone it with the supplies; in addition to the load from the helicopter that Cloud and Vincent had hauled up to the cabin, there were MREs to last a thousand years (especially considering only Cloud needed them), enough blankets to warm all of Icicle and enough spare electronic parts to create another Sister Ray.

Though, as they finally finished depositing all the goods and went to check the detailed weather monitoring program, Cloud supposed it was for the best.

The storm that they’d been told was a few weeks away had gathered in strength and speed, and was now less than a week out.

“Do you think that’s a sign?” Cloud asked Reeve, via the commlink.

“Well. The same thing happened three times last year, according to our reports – that’s why this mission was rather dangerous. The weather patterns are unpredictable.” Reeve was quiet for a moment. “But say the word, Cloud, and we’ll send the helicopter to rendezvous with you in Icicle. I’m not looking to anger the planet, and if you think…”

Cloud sighed and rubbed his forehead. “If you say this happens…”

“Would you like to see the data?”

Was he kidding? Cloud exchanged a glance with Vincent, who shook his dark head and said nothing. “I think we’re fine.”

“All right. Stay safe, both of you.”

They went through the plans, the maps, and packed up supplies. Cloud was amused to see that Reeve had included cards and some board games – he was determined to keep them entertained if the weather really did keep them here for months.

“I think Reeve forgot I was in a mako tank for four years,” Cloud said, waving a deck cards at Vincent.

“And that I slept in a coffin for thirty years,” said Vincent, picking up a drawing game. He squinted at it. “This says it’s for at least three people.”

“If I were stuck in here with Reno, I would not be playing games with him. Unless that game was ‘gag the Turk.’” Cloud realized how that sounded and cleared his throat. “Current Turk. Obviously. Not former.”

“Thank you,” Vincent said, voice dry. “But if I get too chatty, feel free to tell me.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely going to be a problem for both of us.” Cloud smiled, trying not to think about his fantasy the night before, and the ideas he was having about what, exactly, he could use to gag Vincent.

Cloud headed to the kitchen and went through the MREs. There might have been enough for the rest of his likely long life, but there were only about four different types and none of them sounded good.

Cloud selected the least-offensive one and sat on the floor, cross-legged, to eat it. The wind outside had picked up, rattling the windows. He wondered why he felt more comfortable here, in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, than he did back in Edge.

He glanced at Vincent, who was cleaning his guns. He worked methodically, holding the gun with his mechanical claw and his long fingers of his human hand deftly going through the proper motions.

“Something on your mind, Cloud?”

Of course he’d caught Cloud staring. “Just watching. Was that hard to learn? I mean. With the…uh.” He waved his hand.

Vincent looked over at him. “My claw?”

“Yeah.” Cloud ducked his head, feeling dumb and also like he was prying. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that.” Maybe he was the one who needed to be gagged. By Vincent’s –

_Stop that._

“It’s all right. We’re friends. I hear friends sometimes converse.”

Cloud laughed. Vincent had a quietly dry sense of humor that Cloud had always appreciated, even if he didn’t get to experience it often. “Still. It could be about something other than…uh. Things you don’t want to talk about.”

“The weather?”

“Sure.” Cloud took a bite of his meatloaf. Or wait. Chicken? How terrifying was it that he couldn’t tell? “I hear it’s cold out.”

This time, Vincent laughed. It was soft and low, warm like whiskey and Cloud was starting to wish he’d indulged in some anonymous hookup before he’d left Edge. Clearly he needed to get laid if all he kept thinking about was sex.

“It did take me some time to learn, yes. For a while, when I was in the coffin, I would take a gun apart and reassemble it, over and over. In the dark, just by touch.” His voice went as cold as the frost glistening on the dark glass of the windows. “Waiting in case Hojo paid me a visit.”

“Too bad he didn’t,” Cloud said, thinking how much easier things would have been.

“He did. I didn’t use it. One more sin to add to all my others.”

Wait, what? Cloud could hear the pain in Vincent’s voice, the regret, and he didn’t want to ask questions and make it worse. There was clearly a story there, but Cloud wasn’t about to ask Vincent to tell him.

“You killed him when you needed to,” Cloud said, a little awkwardly. “Both times.” He laughed, but this time it wasn’t from amusement. “I know all about having to kill someone more than once.”

“Good men shouldn’t kill,” Vincent murmured softly.

Cloud thought that was a strange attitude for a Turk, but all he said was, “And people should only have to die once.”

“Indeed.” Vincent fell quiet and went back to his guns, and this time, Cloud didn’t interrupt him.

***

It only took six hours into their first day for Cloud to hate Reeve Tuesti and the W-R-Fucking-O.

The day’s trek had started off fine; the sky was blue, the wind not unbearable, and Cloud found the terrain oddly reminiscent of Mount Nibel in a way that did not make him break into unhappy memories or hives.

Vincent kept up easily, a swirl of crimson and black, wild hair whipping in the wind. As they walked, Cloud told him about the first time he’d met Zack Fair, after a helicopter crash that had been, up until that point, the scariest thing in young Trooper Strife’s life.

But then things had changed – and by “things”, of course, it was the weather. They had about two hours of good daylight, which began to fade into a dusky, otherworldly twilight that was actually sort of pretty – until it started snowing so hard it was impossible to see.

They had equipment but it, too, had a hard time functioning in the sudden onslaught. It wasn’t a storm, Cloud didn’t think, it was just the wind picking up snow and flinging it in their faces. Unrelentingly.

They paused and Vincent held his cloak up, shielding the two of them for Cloud to check the equipment. The light was gone now; while they could both see fine in the dark, the snow was another story. He looked up Vincent and said, “We could make it back to the cabin, but as long as we’re going the right direction I think we should keep going.” They’d chosen a cave to camp in that night on the map, and they were just a bit closer to that than the cabin.  

Vincent agreed. It took them two hours longer than planned to find the cave, but they did find it, and Cloud was grateful for the respite from the wind and the fire that they managed to start. Once he was dry and warm and dressed in fresh clothes – especially socks – Cloud found himself pleasantly tired from their hike. It had been a long time since he’d felt that level of physical exertion and he found it helped him sleep, snug in his tent, the wind a constant roar like white noise in the background.

Things did not go quite so well the second day. They only made it half the distance they’d wanted and the cave they eventually camped in was smaller than the first, and the fire kept going out and the wind was louder, more of a nuisance. Cloud woke up tangled in his own tent at one point, and at least the fire was out so the fabric didn’t end up in flames.

Vincent didn’t use a tent; he just wrapped himself up in that cloak of his and rested with his head on his pack. He was quiet as Cloud did battle with the material of the tent, though his shoulders shook in such a way that Cloud suspected he was having a quiet laugh at Cloud’s expense.

Hmph.

Neither of them were laughing the next day, when an actual storm did blow through and sent them to huddle on a ledge for two hours, trying to figure out where to go next. The communication equipment was out of range, and their navigational system said basically, “you’re in the middle of a snowstorm so I don’t know what to tell you, idiots.”

Vincent stared up at the dark sky, frowning. “It would be much easier if I could just see from a higher vantage point.” His red eyes went distant for a moment and he gave a shake of his head. “Chaos is too weak, still, to manifest.”

“I can climb,” Cloud said, nodding over toward one of the cliff faces. He jabbed a gloved finger at the map, wiping the condensation off the screen and shivering. He was so cold his teeth were chattering, but moving would help. “Just, in case I slip or something. Maybe, uh. Catch me?”

Vincent, his dark hair flying around his face, half-hidden by the cowl and his headband, didn’t crack a smile. “Yes. I’ll catch you.”

Cloud smiled slightly, shook off what he didn’t need of his pack and headed to the mountain. He ate a protein bar, drank some water, and then started climbing. It was a long, slow process – he slipped a few times, and once he sliced the edge of his glove on a rock and felt his skin tear, but it was healed in mere minutes. His fingers struggled sometimes with the carabiners and the rope was wet and slippery, the rocks even worse –it took him nearly two hours of patient climbing, slipping, cursing and climbing again until he was up high enough to see.

Luckily the snow had stopped; he could make out the terrain much better and he used his PHS on night-mode to take a few pictures. From what he could tell, they were miles off track. They’d need to have a clean, dry place to calculate their location and figure out where to go next.

It seemed a lot more likely that they were going to be here for longer than two weeks.

It was full dark now, and it took Cloud another forty-five minutes to repel down the face of the mountain. He could see Vincent there, waiting patiently, a red-clad sentinel in the moonlight, growing brighter and larger as Cloud descended.

“Your nose is bright red,” said Vincent, when Cloud unbuckled his climbing harness and gear.

Cloud did indeed know that. His endurance was more than human – much more so – but he was still subjected to the elements. His muscles ached from the climb. He showed Vincent the PHS and pointed. “It’s not too windy and it’s not snowing. If you can, I’d say we should keep on going until that stops.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather rest? That climb looked intense.”

Cloud nodded. “Yeah. Something tells me we shouldn’t waste good weather and I think this is as good as it gets. Just let me rest for a bit and have something to eat, I should be fine.”

It was strange traveling with someone who did not need to eat or drink. Vincent was a stalwart sentinel, a constant presence, and while they didn’t speak much it was still a comfort to have him there. Cloud managed almost thirty hours before he finally had to admit he needed sleep.

They found a cave, pitched the tent, and Cloud slept for six hours straight – more than enough to rejuvenate his tired body. With a cure materia, a potion and an ether, and with dry clothes and a full stomach, he was ready to go…

..out into a blizzard.

This wasn’t just snow kicked around by the wind, no – this was a proper blizzard, sheets of falling snow that felt like small razorblades striking you in the face. Cloud had been in blizzards as a child but of course he’d never gone out in them – and even in Nibelheim it was nothing like this.

This felt… _angry,_ and it made Cloud wonder if the Planet really _was_ trying to stop them from finding this new power source. It was hard to imagine that this was normal for the area, Northern Continent or not.

They tried trekking through to the next location they’d marked to camp, but it took hours and it was obviously stupid. The navigation equipment just threw up an error message, meaning they had to go by a plastic map and Cloud’s PHS, for which they only had a finite number of emergency batteries.

Cloud used a few markers to try and pinpoint their location, but when they circled around them twice, he shook his head and shouted to Vincent, “It’s no good. We need to see if we can get a location, or wait out the worst of this.”

“Agreed,” Vincent called, and they looked around, both clearly trying to figure out the best way to go.

Three hours of misery finally ended when they found a small rocky overhang – it couldn’t even really be called a cave – and they set to work trying to block out the worst of the wind and snow. There was no way a fire would stay lit but they rigged two tents together as a tarp to keep out the worst of the elements, and a potion and some dinner at least made Cloud feel marginally less miserable if not warm.

“I don’t understand why Reeve was so determined to find this power source now, if this really is the norm for the weather here.” Cloud frowned. “Why not wait until summer when there’s not going to be a blizzard or a need for enhanced humans?”

Vincent was quiet, knees drawn up to his chest.

“There has to be something going on.” Cloud shook his head. “He knows something he’s not telling us. Does this mysterious power source run out or something?”

“I don’t think it’s the power source,” said Vincent at length. “I think it’s the people.” He might not be affected by the weather, but he’d still been soaked. He’d taken off the cowl and the headband, though he was still swathed in the red cloak. Whatever supernatural powers it did possess, drying itself didn’t seem to be one of them.

“Huh?”

“I think they’re concerned about the people. Mako used the Lifestream and it was bad for the planet, but people have short memories.” Vincent’s gravel-rough voice was low. “All they know is they’re paying a lot of money in an unstable economy for power that isn’t reliable. And they’re not too far removed from the days where a small amount of money a month got them unlimited power, electricity, hot water….”

Cloud thought about it, shivering. “You’re saying that people are gonna start resenting the fact we got rid of mako energy?”

Vincent dragged his human hand through his hair. “I think they already _are_ resentful. No one wants to say anything, I’m sure, but we’re living in a world after what was essentially the ruling government fell – and the ruling government was a corporation that provided the one thing that brought them to power.”

Cloud thought about that. “Some people do. Say things, I mean.” He thought about his conversation with Tifa, before he’d left Edge. “There’s a group, I forget the name, who think that we should use mako, just with, like, regulations. They believe we’re the rightful…uh. Inheritors or something, of the planet.”

Vincent’s eyes flashed momentarily amber, and a trickle of a growl escaped him.

Cloud’s mouth quirked. “Tell Chaos I’m not a member.”

Vincent blinked, and his eyes went back to normal. “There are those who don’t see a difference, too, between mako, oil and coal. Reeve is one of them. He said something about it when I was there meeting with him about this quest.”

“Do you think that way?” Cloud asked.

“I don’t know. I was never…metaphysics aren’t my strong suit.” Vincent tilted his head; for a moment he looked like he was listening to a voice only he could hear. “Chaos says…it’s different. The Lifestream is the lifeblood of the planet. It’s the metaphysical soul. Fossil fuels aren’t inherently the same but it’s harmful in a different way. And, Chaos reminds me, those things are finite.”

“That’s why the WRO is focused on solar, hydro and wind power,” Cloud mused thoughtfully.

“Yes, but Cloud, those are expensive and time-intensive. They’re doing their best to get things up and running, but you have a population reeling from violence and unsure who to trust. There’s no stability, and that’s….well. We saw it with Deepground and believe me, you’ll see it again.”

“In the grand scheme of things, is a few months really that much of a difference?”

Vincent shrugged. “It’s hard for one such as I to say that. Or my demon, who has walked on this planet since before even the Cetra.”

“Well. We’re stupid to be walking on it where we are right now,” Cloud said succinctly. He shivered again. “Fuck. I’m cold.”

“You’re enhanced, not immortal.” Vincent handed him a potion, and Cloud drank it and activated his cure materia. He wasn’t injured, though, and while the potion warmed him a bit, it really didn’t do anything for the chill.

He was just starting to wonder what would happen if he cast fire materia on himself when Vincent said, haltingly, “It’s not going to be warm enough for you. The temperature is dropping.”

It was. Cloud shrugged. “I’ll survive.”

“Yes. Well. You can still take ill.”  Vincent took off his cloak, tried to shake off the excess water, and put it around Cloud’s shoulders. “Does that help?”

It did, but not because it was all that warm; it was the gesture, and the fact the cape – which was definitely still damp – smelled like Vincent. Cloud ducked his head, his hair finally starting to dry in the absence of the snow. “Yeah.”

Vincent stared at him for a moment, his eyes bright. He was as exposed now as he’d been that morning in Kalm; clad in only his shirt, pants, boots and gauntlet, though his hair was carelessly tangled and still hanging in his face.

They were standing very close together. Cloud inhaled sharply, noticing that Vincent’s human hand was still on his shoulder. Vincent looked uncertain, and the moment stretched on, pregnant with possibility.

“I – if you slept near me…” Cloud tried to sound nonchalant.

“It would likely only make you uncomfortable.” Vincent glanced away. “I do not give off body heat, since I am not technically alive.” He reached out and pressed his naked fingers to Cloud face, briefly. They were icy-cold.

But Cloud still thought how they’d feel, on his body. They’d surely get a little warmer, wouldn’t they? He shivered, but Vincent mistook it as a chill and stepped away from him.

 “I should have brought the cards,” Cloud said, dryly, after a few hours. “Or a blanket made out of Nibel wolf skin.” He thought longingly of the one that had been on his bed as a child. It had been so warm that he hadn’t needed a heater in the winter months in his loft, even sleeping next to a window.

That gave him an idea. “Can you still turn into a wolf?” he asked. Then he coughed. “I don’t want to skin Galian, just…use him as a pillow.”

Cloud glanced over at Vincent, who was sitting in front of the gap where the tarp wouldn’t quite stay closed, as if he were trying to block the worst of the cold wind and snow. There was frost in his midnight-black hair, and it was drying into fanciful shapes.

“Galian is untamed, Cloud,” Vincent said, slowly. “You’re a powerful, enhanced human. His primal instincts might lead him to think you’re a threat and attack you.”

“I’m a short guy who’s cold because my entire body is nothing but muscle,” said Cloud wryly. “Couldn’t he just sniff me and know I’m not a threat? He’s fought beside me before.”

“Yes, but you’re asking to share your den with him. Sleep. Creatures – especially ones like Galian – are very protective about their dens.” Vincent studied him. “I suppose if he saw you as pack, it would work.”

“How would we make him see me as pack, though? Since I can’t turn into a … Galian?” He wasn’t sure exactly what kind of wolf-creature Galian even _was._

Vincent must not have been, either, because he didn’t bother to correct Cloud. He did, however, look a bit uncomfortable. “Canines would mark other pack members with scent.”

“As in, rub your face on me? Or would me wearing your cloak work?”

“They would traditionally use urine, but I…” Vincent shook his head. “That isn’t something I’ve done since I became…what I am. I suppose I could –” he stopped and narrowed his eyes, again looking as if he were listening to something. Whatever he heard made him scowl. 

Cloud’s eyebrows raised. “Someone else have an idea?”

“Chaos suggests I could use another bodily fluid that I _do_ still produce, though it isn’t viable for its intended purpose.”

The way he said it was so old-fashioned that it took Cloud a moment to translate it. When he did, he grinned despite himself. “Chaos suggested you come on me?”

“It would be uncomfortable, you’d likely have to be naked and it’s already quite cold,” Vincent hissed, as if he were having this conversation with his demon and not Cloud, and maybe he was. “Besides, that is an improper thing to suggest.”

“But peeing on me wasn’t?”

“You brought this up,” Vincent said, a bit more spiritedly than Cloud anticipated. “But, yes. I suppose if you…stripped at least your shirt, and I…on your back, your chest, perhaps rubbed some in your hair – what?”

Cloud had stood up and shuffled over, so that he was kneeling in front of Vincent. “Would it help if I said I got off thinking about you, the night we were in Icicle?” Cloud spread Vincent’s cloak on the ground.

Vincent didn’t move. He looked – maybe not surprised, but wary. “You – did?”

“Yeah.”  

Vincent smiled. A real smile, small, but it showed his teeth. Without the cowl and his headband, it made him almost devastatingly handsome. “Chaos implied perhaps that you would welcome my advances.”

“And I’m telling you that I would,” Cloud assured him. “But I don’t want to make things awkward.”

“I think we’re well beyond that stage,” Vincent said, moving closer.

“Could you – you have icicles in your hair,” Cloud pointed out.

“Oh.” Vincent ran his claw hand through his tangled dark locks, which did an admirable job breaking up the ice.

“Wait, you do…I mean, you do want to, right?” Cloud realized with something like horror that Vincent offering to jerk off on him so he could turn into a werewolf and not accidentally eat him was not the same thing as Vincent wanting to fuck him. The very thought turned his face bright red and he choked back a wild laugh.

Vincent moved closer, all sinuous grace, and there was a glint in his eyes and a slight smile on his face that Cloud had never seen before. “Oh, yes. I want to.”  

Cloud exhaled a breath and nodded. “Okay. Good.” When Vincent was kneeling in front of him, Cloud reached out and put his arms around Vincent’s neck, shifting closer. He felt nervous in a way he never did when it came to sex. Cloud was awkward with people as a rule, but if there was one thing he was, it was physical. He could fight, and climb things, and jump, and fuck.

He pulled Vincent in and kissed him.

Vincent, after a moment, kissed him back. “This isn’t necessary. Kissing, I mean.”

Cloud paused. “Do you not like it?”

“I – it’s simply been awhile, and I…don’t wish you to be uncomfortable, Cloud.”

“Fucking without kissing seems more uncomfortable to me.” Though that wasn’t really true, he’d done it before. But he knew Vincent, had wanted this with Vincent – longer than maybe he’d even admitted to himself. “I like kissing.”

Vincent didn’t say anything, but he kissed him with sudden heat and aggression, so much so that Cloud found himself gasping in surprise in Vincent’s mouth. He’d thought about this, about what Vincent would be like. Cloud had always thought he’d be a little shier, but then again…people thought that about him, too.

“Can we lay down?” Cloud asked, when he could grab a breath. He was turned on but still too cold for certain parts of his anatomy to get with the program. The ground beneath them was uneven and even with the cloak, hurt his knees.

“Of course.” Vincent’s voice, kiss-roughened and low and sounded even sexier than normal.

Cloud went to his back and reached out to tug at Vincent’s shirt. “On top of me. C’mon.”

Vincent lowered himself on top of Cloud, settling between his slightly-parted thighs. Cloud could feel that he was hard and it made him shiver, not from cold, and he pushed his thighs up. He ran his hands through Vincent’s hair, then apologized as his fingers caught in the tangles. “Sorry. Sorry, I …didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Vincent made a noise like a growl and leaned down to kiss him, harder. “Don’t. I liked it. Do it harder.”

Oh. Cloud smiled against his mouth and pulled as requested. In response, Vincent kissed him harder and ground his cock down against Cloud’s.

Heat washed through him. Cloud moaned against Vincent’s mouth, surprised by the sound and how loud he was being. Doing this with someone he knew, it added an urgency that was making Cloud want Vincent to fuck him _._

Vincent pushed his human hand under Cloud’s jacket and his sweater. Cloud couldn’t quite stop his wince – Vincent’s hand was cold as ice – but when Vincent mumbled an apology and tried to pull away, Cloud nipped his lip and shook his head. “I’ll get used to it.”

Vincent paused but he slid his hand up and rested it on Cloud’s stomach, pausing and kissing Cloud, continuing the slow grind of hips. It didn’t warm the way a human hand would, but the iciness eased up enough that it didn’t feel like a block of ice against his skin.

Cloud wrapped his legs around Vincent’s hips, thrusting up against him. “Fuck, I’m – already close.” Shiva, how embarrassing was that? “Swear I’ve…done this before.”

Vincent laughed, the sound silky. “I haven’t in longer than you’ve been alive.” He was braced over Cloud with his claw digging into the ground by Cloud’s head. “I – this won’t take long.”

Cloud nodded his assent and gave his own low laugh. “Yeah. I – you should probably take my shirt off. You have to – I mean, on my skin, right?”

“Yes, I …” Vincent shuddered and buried his face in Cloud’s neck. “Gods, I want to fuck you.” His hips were moving in a steady rhythm like he was _trying_ to fuck Cloud.

It felt so good, Cloud arched against him and moaned. Loudly. “Fuck, yeah.” He struggled to sit up and Vincent helped him off with his jacket and sweater, and it was still cold but Cloud barely noticed. He reached down and unbuckled his belt, trying to get his pants off. It was difficult with Vincent still pushing demandingly against him.

“I – won’t last,” Vincent panted, hotly, against Cloud’s neck. He pushed back so he was sitting on his haunches. His dark hair was tangled and messy, his mouth reddened from kissing and his crimson eyes burned like fire.

Cloud stared at him, wide-eyed and, he was sure, open-mouthed. He reached out and tugged Vincent’s shirt again, this time to pull it off instead of pull him down.

Vincent covered Cloud’s hand with his own and shook his head. “No, I…please, leave it.”

Cloud paused. Since Vincent couldn’t feel the cold the same way, he’d thought…. “Why not?”

“It’s…I don’t want you to see them,” Vincent said, quietly. “No one’s touched me like they wanted me in a long time, Cloud.”

It took Cloud a moment to realize what Vincent meant, why he didn’t want Cloud to see him. He pushed himself up on his elbows, breathing hard. “You think scars bother me?”

Vincent shook his head slightly. “Maybe they won’t, but they bother me.”

If Cloud understood anything, it was personal neuroses. He nodded and gave Vincent an easy smile. “Okay. But they won’t bother me. When you’re ready to show me.”

Vincent stared at him and then moved sinuously, dropping his head and shifting so that he could take Cloud’s cock in his mouth. Vincent was cold but his mouth was hot – however that worked – and Cloud’s head dropped back on the ground as he moaned again.

Gods, blowjobs felt so good. Cloud moved his hips and Vincent made a humming sound around his cock. He pulled off and panted up at Cloud, “You can do it rough. I like it.”

Cloud blinked down at him and mumbled a, “Yeah, okay,” then arched up and let himself fuck Vincent’s throat as Vincent went back to sucking him. Vincent’s hand found Cloud’s and carried it back to his hair, so Cloud took the hint and pulled sharply as Vincent deep-throated his cock.

He could feel Vincent’s throat muscles work and it occurred to him that Vincent didn’t necessarily need to breathe or swallow, and maybe that should bother Cloud but instead it just made him cry out, arch up and pull desperately on Vincent’s dark hair. “I’m close….”

Vincent moved up easily and got on top of Cloud again, kissing him and carrying Cloud’s hand down to his pants. Cloud rubbed over Vincent’s erection as they kissed, undoing the buttons and buckles to work his hand inside. Vincent’s cock wasn’t exactly warm but it was certainly hard, the tip slick with precome and Cloud worked his hand over it for a few moments before wiggling and getting his pants pushed down to his thighs. “Come on.”

Vincent settled on top of him, thrusting his cock against Cloud’s. It took a bit of moving around before they found a good rhythm, rutting against each other and both of them panting hard.

“Gonna come,” Cloud warned him, bucking his hips up hard.

“Yes,” Vincent growled, biting and sucking at Cloud’s neck.

Cloud came on the next hard thrust of Vincent’s hips, warm and wet against his belly, and felt Vincent’s teeth against his skin suddenly a little sharper than before. The hair he was pulling went stiffer, like they were spikes…and there was a sudden weight there, as if Vincent – who was tall but not that much bigger than Cloud, given he was so lanky – were suddenly someone else.

Some _thing_ else.

It only lasted for a second, and then Vincent’s hair was just a tangled damp mess, and his lithe body was tense and moving on top of Cloud’s as he drove himself closer to his own peak. Cloud pulled his hair and kissed him, tongues sliding against each other, and then Vincent moved so he could straddle Cloud.

He stared down at Cloud through the fall of his messy hair, eyes blazing red, mouth parted and breathing loudly as he stroked his cock almost ruthlessly.

Cloud stared up at him and then sucked two fingers into his mouth, making a show of getting them wet, and slipped his hand down beneath Vincent’s balls. He palmed them and teased Vincent’s hole with his fingers, pressing inside only lightly, gauging Vincent’s reaction to see if he liked it or not.

He clearly liked it – he threw his head back and shuddered, made a noise Cloud was going to hear forever when he jerked off now, and came messily all over Cloud’s chest and stomach. Cloud eased up when Vincent’s cock stopped spurting and Vincent winced a bit from the stimulation.

Vincent stared down at him with hot eyes. “I’d lick that off you if I could.”

It was so unexpectedly hot that Cloud’s softened cock gave a bit of twitch. “Gods, Vincent.”

Vincent smiled at him, a little predatory sort of smile that Cloud had never seen before but that he would really like to see again. He reached out with his hand and started rubbing the mess on Cloud’s stomach into his skin; his stomach, his chest, and then growling for Cloud to flip on his back.

Cloud did so, and Vincent rubbed it into his skin with his fingers before lying down and rubbing his face over the back of Cloud’s hair, down his spine, snuffing at him. Rubbing his scent into him. Cloud’s hips pushed and if the ground had been a little less unforgiving, he would have probably started humping it.

There was cold air as Vincent pulled away. He tugged at the back of Cloud’s spikes. “Okay. Can you stay like this long enough for me to transform? Once Galian gets your scent, you should be able to put your shirt back on.”

Right. They’d done this for Galian. Cloud almost laughed; he was sated and tired and maybe could have slept. Though the cold air was starting to feel like needles on his skin, so he nodded and rolled over, pushing up on his elbows. He frowned as Vincent headed toward the tarp. “Where are you going?”

“It – isn’t pleasant. Please don’t follow me, I…would prefer you not see. And try not to be afraid when I return. Fear might confuse him.” Vincent was guarding his beast like his scars, and Cloud supposed he could understand that.

He remembered that brief moment of Vincent feeling like someone _other_ and shivered. It definitely hadn’t bothered Cloud. He nodded, and Vincent disappeared into the snow.

What came back was not Vincent.

The muzzle was first, poking through the tarp. Even though Cloud had seen Galian before, had fought beside Vincent in that form, it still gave him pause. He forced himself to relax even though he was shivering.

The giant beast was a wolf and…something Cloud couldn’t put a name to. It had horns, and the creature was a shocking color of purple, its eyes as red as Vincent’s as it crept closer.

“Galian,” Cloud said, feeling a little stupid. “Uh.” He wondered if he was allowed to pet it. He waited, met the creature’s eyes – _like Vincent’s, but no one was home –_ and then deliberately looked down, conceding dominance. What the hell, that worked with dogs.

The creature crept closer on all fours. It growled; all the hair on Cloud’s body stood up, but he didn’t move. He stared at his own stomach, scratchy with drying come, his own and Vincent’s. Galian’s muzzle sniffed at him, and then the creature licked him.

_I’d lick that off you if I could._

Cloud stared up at the rocky ceiling of the overhang and thought perhaps this was the strangest moment of his life.

Galian stopped growling and snuffed at him. Cloud exhaled sharply, then reached out a hand and held it under the creature’s nose. It sniffed, and then Cloud reached up and patted it on the head. “Uh. Good boy.”

The beast blinked its not-Vincent eyes at him then collapsed next to him on the floor. It was so large it blocked most of the wind.

“Okay, so…Vincent said I could put my shirt on. That cool?”

The creature stared at him. It growled a little, but Cloud didn’t think it was trying to communicate. He quickly pulled on his sweater and his jacket, sighing a bit in relief. Then he moved closer. The beast radiated heat like a fire, and it was furry. Cloud remembered what he’d said about the blanket from his childhood and felt bad, suddenly, as if maybe Galian would somehow know he’d slept under a skinned wolf.

The creature put its massive head on its paws and eyed Cloud, but didn’t swipe at him or do anything but watch as Cloud crept closer. He made sure to keep Vincent’s cape around him as he did so. A few times Galian growled and sniffed at him, so Cloud went still and murmured, “Good boy,” over and over again, until Galian apparently decided he no longer cared about Cloud and shut his eyes, letting out a purely canine-sigh.

Cloud cuddled up to the creature’s side, wary and tense, wondering if this was going to help him sleep. He was warm, but that didn’t make this any less…weird.

Galian’s tail curled around, trapping Cloud between the beast’s body and the surprisingly soft short-haired fur. Cloud experimentally closed his eyes. He was very, very warm. He reached out and stroked a hand against the creature. “Thanks, Galian.”

The beast turned its head and licked Cloud’s hair.

Cloud fell asleep.

***

_Somewhere close by, someone else finally woke up._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent Valentine is happy, and then everything comes crashing down around him. Literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (NSFW Vincent/Cloud at the beginning)
> 
> Thanks to Pixeled for the beta! 
> 
> And if the FFVII writers can turn people's souls into a viable power source, I can do the same thing with mineral water, k? Just trust me.

 

Chapter Six

Vincent watched Cloud the entire next day, a fact which did not go unnoticed by his demon.

 _((I can’t believe you used Galian to get laid.))_ Chaos sounded almost impressed.

 _You’re the one who suggested I come on him,_ Vincent thought at the demon.

_((I never thought you’d actually do it.))_

_I guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do,_ Vincent thought smugly.

_((Or else I know you better than you know yourself.))_

It occurred to Vincent that the experience had helped the demon to rejuvenate – its voice wasn’t louder, exactly, but it was fuller, more resonant. Vincent could hear and feel the echo of it in a way he hadn’t been able to since the fight from Omega.

 _I won’t let you feed on Cloud,_ Vincent told it, a little unnerved at the thought his sex life was giving his demon power.

_((That isn’t exactly how it works, Vincent. It’s the strength of your emotions that feed me, and you feel a great deal during sex – emotionally and physically. This is out of the norm for you, dark one. You usually attempt to navigate your cursed existence feeling nothing but remorse. Which, if you’re wondering, tastes like cardboard.)_

Vincent thought about the ramification of this. If he and Cloud continued to be intimate, it would help Chaos to return to full strength – and regain its ability to manifest through Vincent. Perhaps he didn’t wish that to happen. He was resigned to the demon’s presence, but it was another thing entirely to have a creature capable of manifesting at will…through his own body.

_((It will happen eventually, my host. We have eternity. And besides, I could be of use to you were I able to manifest in my actual form.))_

_You could be, but_ would _you be?_ Vincent asked, and the demon’s soft laugh faded into shadow.

Still, it was pleasant to relive the encounter. Vincent had forgotten how good it felt to have another person beneath him, clutching at him, pulling his hair. Cloud’s body, so strong and hard, those pretty eyes of his blurry with passion….

Vincent caught Cloud looking at him with a hesitant expression, just shy of a smile. Vincent felt foolish and far younger than his years as he returned it. He still couldn’t quite believe that Cloud wanted to be with him, had thought about it for reasons other than necessity.

_((I told you so.))_

Vincent ignored his demon. It told him a lot of things.

The trek was marginally less difficult than previous days, though maybe that was just the memory of the evening’s activities that made it so. Vincent wasn’t used to having a lot of pleasant thoughts to keep him company, and while he didn’t hate Chaos and did genuinely enjoy the odd nature of their sexual encounters…it wasn’t the same thing as being with an actual human. It was more like masturbation than sex.

They found a much better place to make camp that night, and Vincent watched while Cloud went through the motions of unpacking his tent and setting it up, then starting a fire. They were far enough from the cave entrance that the snow didn’t blow in; it was much nicer than last night’s accommodation, that was for sure.

Cloud was able to get the navigation equipment working, and they spent some time looking at the map. They were a little off course but not too bad -- they’d still make it in about three days to Reeve’s fabled power source. If the storm held off, they might get back in time for the WRO to pick them up.

Vincent thought about what it might mean to spend two months in that little cabin with Cloud. There were possibilities there that weren’t before, though surely…surely it would be a bad idea. Somehow, Cloud would come to realize that Vincent wasn’t worth his –

_((Do you even listen to yourself when you think these things? Did that bitch fuse me to you because she knew of every mortal on the Planet you were the only one who could host a demon without having one single bit of fun?))_

Vincent wrapped himself up in his cloak. _If you want to get laid again, leave me be._

_((I don’t know that I trust you can accomplish it without some absurd reason. Are you going to tell Strife that you have to come inside of him so I don’t eat him on accident?))_

_Be quiet._ Vincent studied Cloud, watched the way he moved around the cave.

_((My dark one. You are many things, but when it comes to other people, all of those things are bad.))_

“Chaos thinks I will fail in my attempt to seduce you,” Vincent said, bluntly.

Cloud blinked over at him. “Uh. What?”

_((Very smooth, my dark one.))_

“He thinks I will manufacture some reason for you to go to bed with me.”

“Yeah?” Cloud smiled at him. “You weren’t planning on offering to pee on me again, were you?”

Vincent sighed and ignored Chaos’s dark chuckle. “May I remind you, Strife. That was _your_ idea.”

Cloud’s smile turned into a brief grin. Vincent had never seen him smile where he showed teeth before. “Right. Well. I was just gonna. You know. Mention it was warm in here and that as much as I appreciated Galian’s fur, I’d rather sleep next to you.”

“You’re more forward than I’d anticipated,” Vincent said, aware how awkward that sounded.

Chaos apparently didn’t care if Vincent knew or not. _((Next shall you tell him how he is adequate at addressing your sexual needs? Vincent. Maybe you should let me talk. ))_

“I’m not good at talking.” Cloud shrugged. “But that’s…I mean. It’s clear that I want you, isn’t it? I figured that’s okay.”

_((The two of you deserve each other.))_

“It’s. Yes. Very okay.” Despite the assurance, Vincent didn’t move.

“You’re still, uh. Wrapped in that cloak like you don’t want me near you.” Cloud nodded over to his tent. “I know you’re still…about taking your clothes off, would it help if it were dark?”

Vincent nodded. He felt stupid, but he hated the idea of Cloud seeing his scars.

“Do you want me to put the fire out?” Cloud asked, removing his boots.  

Vincent did, because it meant it would be darker – but Cloud had enhanced vision, and he’d be able to see anyway. He didn’t want Cloud to be cold, just because he was worried about his scars. “No, that’s not necessary. I – I’m sorry to be this way. I know it’s not rational.”

Cloud gave a soft laugh. “It’s fine.” He moved toward the tent, and Vincent followed him inside after kicking off his boots. The tent was supposed to fit two, meaning it accommodated someone Cloud’s size and perhaps Vincent’s if he were an inch or two shorter.

Vincent took the cape off, followed it with his headband and his cowl, and neatly folded everything. He watched as Cloud stripped without an apparent care, pulling his sweater off and tossing it to the corner of the tent. He followed it with his pants and his underwear, leaving him naked and unabashed.

He caught Vincent looking and ducked his head. “I got issues, Valentine. They’re just different than yours.”

Vincent snorted. “Thank Shiva for that, I suppose.”

Cloud lay down on his back. His cock was half-hard in its nest of blond hair as he reclined on the blankets, hands behind his head.

Vincent’s fingers went to his shirt, but he hesitated. He wasn’t sure he could do this. In his head he saw his reflection from the mirror in Icicle, the scars that cut across his body. He closed his eyes. His demon was silent, probably disgusted at him for being like this.

“Vincent.”

Cloud’s voice was husky, low – and understanding. Vincent opened his eyes, feeling ashamed. He lowered his head. “I’m sorry this is an issue.”

“Don’t be. Hey. You could blindfold me, if you want.” Cloud seemed completely at ease with the idea.

Vincent thought about it, his fingers reaching over and grabbing his headband. “You don’t mind?”

“I mean. You’re hot, and I want to see you, but like I said. I have issues. I get it.” Cloud smiled again. “I want you to feel good, too. That’s the point.”

Vincent moved over and straddled him with the headband in his hands. He leaned down and kissed him. “Thank you. For understanding.”

“Mm.” Cloud kissed him back and obediently closed his eyes. “I’m selfish. Want you to fuck me.”

Lust shot through Vincent and he thought he heard his demon purr. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on each of Cloud’s closed eyelids, then sat up, breathing hard, and tied the headband around Cloud’s head. Red was a good color on him.

Vincent retreated and sat next to Cloud, finally pulling off his shirt and his pants. Even though Cloud couldn’t see, it’d been a long time since he’d been naked in front of anyone. He stretched out next to Cloud on the blanket and leaned in to kiss him, his hair falling around them like a dark curtain.

“Can you – uh. Talk? I like your voice,” Cloud said, against his mouth. One of his hands came up and tugged on his hair.

Vincent shivered a little and tried to think of what to say. For once, his usually chatty demon was quiet; likely feeding off the energy spikes from Vincent, his nerves and his excitement. “Yes.” He ran a hand down Cloud’s chest, his muscular stomach. He was a hewn weapon, edged like a blade. “I kept thinking about how you looked with my come all over you.”

“Mmm.” Cloud arched up. “I liked that.”

Vincent moved so he was straddling Cloud, hands running down his chest and stomach, then lower, over his cock. “I want to suck you again.”

“Yeah,” Cloud panted, arching up. His hands stayed in Vincent’s hair and didn’t falter. He spread his legs easily, wantonly; as Vincent settled between them, he never once touched anywhere but Vincent’s hair, his head – and once, he rubbed his thumb over Vincent’s mouth, stretched around his cock. “Blindfold thing isn’t bad.  If I saw you doing this, I might come.”

Vincent sucked him harder, used his tongue. He was good at this; it’d been awhile, but he remembered how to do it. He liked the way it felt, the weight of Cloud’s cock on his tongue, the heated flesh, the taste of it. Cloud trembled; Vincent ran his hands up and down Cloud’s thighs, feeling the muscles bunching beneath his fingers.  

Eventually he let Cloud’s cock fall out of his mouth to move lower, over his balls. Cloud’s fingers tightened and pulled hard in his hair; Vincent moaned in response. Cloud wasn’t pulling quite as hard as he wanted, but it was close. Vincent licked lower, lower, until he was running his tongue around Cloud’s entrance.

“Oh,” Cloud moaned. “That’s – Vincent.”

“You don’t like it?” Vincent asked, pausing. Maybe he should have asked first.

“I like it,” Cloud assured him. “I just – no one’s ever….”

A flash of memory; Vincent had said the same thing, when –

_((Taste him. Think of him. Only of him.))_

Chaos being helpful must mean he was gathering strength from this – though gods only knew, thinking about Hojo produced a strong reaction. Vincent kissed gently at Cloud’s inner thigh. “If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. But let me fuck you with my tongue, Cloud.”

“Oh, Shiva.” Cloud shifted, and his legs came up.

Vincent took Cloud’s legs and draped them over his shoulders. Cloud made a sound that wasn’t a word and bucked his hips in encouragement, so Vincent spread him open, spit gently to lubricate Cloud’s hole and then began using his tongue to fuck him.

“Vincent, holy fuck, that’s – oh, Gods –” Cloud’s heels kicked against Vincent’s back. One of his hands fell out of Vincent’s hair to start stroking himself off. “I’m gonna – fuck, I’m gonna –”

Vincent didn’t stop. He wanted Cloud to come all over himself, wanted him to do it while Vincent rimmed him. “Then come. Let me feel you.”

Cloud’s compact, lean form went tense and he finally – _finally –_ pulled Vincent’s hair as hard as Vincent wanted, getting a moan out of Vincent that he doubted Cloud could hear as Cloud jerked his cock rapidly and came all over his stomach. Vincent eased back and watched the tail of Cloud’s orgasm, his body a trembling mess.

Vincent smiled, reached down and ran his fingers through the mess on Cloud’s stomach. This time he didn’t rub it in Cloud’s skin. Instead he leaned in and licked it, all of it, just like he’d wanted to do last night.

When he was finished, Vincent sat back on his heels and looked down at Cloud. His body was flushed with pleasure, damp with sweat, muscles twitching slightly. His mouth was red and parted, and he looked…debauched. From Vincent. “Gods, Cloud. You’re beautiful.”

“Fuck me,” Cloud said, reaching for him. “I’m so fucking ready for you, c’mon.”

Shuddering, his cock achingly hard, Vincent eased himself on top of Cloud. Cloud’s legs went around his hips, and Vincent kissed beneath Cloud’s ear, not sure if Cloud would want his mouth on him after what he’d done.

Cloud didn’t seem to care. He turned his head and kissed Vincent, messy and hot. “Can I touch your cock? Wanna put it inside me,” he panted.

Vincent groaned. “Yes.”

Cloud dropped one hand between them to take hold of Vincent’s cock. He stroked it a few times, though Vincent was hard as a rock and hardly needed it, then shifted and moved until the head was pressed against his opening. Vincent was cool to the touch, everywhere – including his cock – and it made the entrance to Cloud’s body feel like fire.

He wanted more. Vincent slowly pushed his hips forward to breach him; Cloud moaned in encouragement. He tried to go slow, but it felt too good, had been too long, and the intimacy of being inside someone momentarily overwhelmed him – Vincent’s hand went up, as if he were going to tear the blindfold from Cloud’s head so he could look into his eyes.

 _((No,))_ his demon hissed in a voice that sounded like it had been dragged screaming from some dark pit at the center of the earth. Vincent had never heard it sound like that. _((Fuck him, don’t stop.))_

Vincent was a bit thrown by the strangeness of Chaos’s earthy growl but he shoved it aside and kept pushing forward, feeling Cloud bear down and then relax as his length finally breached him to the hilt.

It felt – so good. It had been years, and this was _Cloud_ , fierce and brave Cloud, beneath him – Vincent started fucking him, gently at first, rocking his hips. He stared down at Cloud’s face, and though his eyes were hidden by the cowl he was still so goddamn expressive –

“Yes, fuck, harder, fuck me,” Cloud panted, hands tangled in Vincent’s hair and tugging, as if he could make Vincent fuck him harder that way.

_((Give him what he wants, my dark one. He can take it, he wants to...))_

Vincent shuddered and let go, let the sensations finally overwhelm him. He snapped his hips, over and over, driving himself into the tight warm heat of Cloud’s body. Cloud made sounds that almost sounded like pain but he grabbed Vincent’s human hand and carried it down to his cock, which was hard again.

Vincent stroked him as best he could in time to his thrusts, and his vision started to whiten as he neared the edge. Whiten with a hint of amber at the edges – something in his back felt tight and hot, like it was restraining something –

Wings –

_((Yes, my dark one, yes, Vincent, fuck him, fuck him harder –))_

“Fuck, Vincent, _harder_ –”

Vincent buried his face in Cloud’s neck, fucked him harder and harder and felt himself about to come. He was barely aware of Cloud tightening around him as he came again, and Vincent threw his head back and he heard the sound that came out of him and it wasn’t – wasn’t entirely human, was his own moan and a growl of a beast and something else, a shriek and a hiss, and his heartbeat felt like wings in his chest. 

***

When they were cleaned up, Vincent drew Cloud to him and held him against his chest, his claw hand kept away and his human hand playing gently with the spikes of his blond hair.

“That was,” Cloud said, sounding drowsy and well-fucked. “Good. Really good.”

Vincent nuzzled at Cloud’s neck. “Good. I’m glad.” He looked down at Cloud’s chest and gently touched a scar with the edge of his claw. Cloud had pulled on his pants but hadn’t bothered with his shirt. “What’s that from?”

“Hm? Oh.” Cloud glanced down and blinked. His eyes were blurry and sleepy. If he were annoyed by answering questions about his scars when Vincent wouldn’t let him see his, he didn’t show it. “Sephiroth. That last time we fought, in Edge.”

His son. Vincent wondered if he should tell Cloud, but shied away from it. First, it seemed an odd choice of timing – they’d just fucked – and second, he was loathe to ruin the intimacy of the moment.

“The other one he gave me, in Nibelheim, it was in the same spot. But the mako healed it.” Cloud yawned. His scars – physically, at least – clearly did not give him the same angst as Vincent’s gave him. “I guess that offended him.” He reached out and gently rubbed his fingers over the edge of Vincent’s claw. “Can you feel it if I do that?”

Vincent wasn’t sure if he was trying to change the subject or not, but he let him. “No.”

“I kinda,” Cloud said, laughing a little, “Wanted to suck on it. Earlier.”

Vincent shifted against him. “I – oh.” He couldn’t imagine that. Or, he could, and he wasn’t sure he liked how it made him feel.

“Does that bother you?”

Vincent nodded, hiding behind his hair. “A little. It’s not…it’s not human.”

“Neither was that noise you made when you came,” Cloud said, amused, turning toward him. “But I liked that. A lot.” He pulled Vincent close and kissed him.

“Tch.” Vincent kissed him back, then pulled his cloak over the both of them. “You should sleep.”

“And you?”

Vincent drew him closer, his face buried in the soft spikes of Cloud’s hair. “I don’t need to sleep. And I – I like this. Where I am, right now.” That was not something Vincent was able to say very often.

“That was. Kinda.” Cloud yawned. “Sappy.” He gave another soft laugh and slung one arm around Vincent.

Maybe. But it didn’t meant it wasn’t the truth.

***

For two days, Vincent was happier than he’d been in a long time, happier than he had any right to be. He and Cloud trekked through the mountains, battled the snow, then lost themselves in each other every night in the dark.

Even Vincent’s demon was quiet; sated, probably, on the glut of emotions Vincent was feeling. Lust, affection, desire…Chaos still had a disparaging comment, here or there, but for the most part the demon kept to itself.

They were only two days behind schedule when they found the location of Reeve’s hopeful new power source.

At first, Vincent didn’t recognize it. All their data had made mention of a swirling storm, and there wasn’t one anywhere to be found in the center of the large cave.

There _was_ a stream running through the cavern, which was devoid of ice even though it was cold enough that it should be frozen. This must be the strange water with the added mineral that Reeve was looking for.

Cloud pulled out the many and varied instruments they’d lugged to the location for testing, and while it wouldn’t be possible to send any of the data back until they were at least out of the cave – he took the required measurements and tried to make sense of them.

“Are we sure it’s not mako, or some kind of mako derivative?” Cloud poked the water with one of the instruments. “I wonder if it’s poisonous if you drink it.”  

“It’s not mako,” Vincent assured him. “Look at it. The color is totally different.”

In point of fact, it did look like water…just, maybe, a little bluer. It wasn’t glowing, though.

Cloud pulled off one of his gloves and poked the water gingerly with a bare finger. “It’s warm,” he said, sounding surprised.

Vincent cupped a hand in the water and lifted it, then took a moment to consult with his still-quiet demon. It didn’t appear to care, so Vincent took a brief sip. He made a face. “It tastes like warm water.”

“Reeve’s new power source is a hot spring?” Cloud peered into it. “They don’t have these closer to Midgar?”

Vincent shook his head. “I don’t think so, but I can’t see the source of the stream. If it’s the mineral in the water that’s heating it instead of a geothermal source…”

“Then that could be limitless hot water?” Cloud posited. “That’d make people happier about the showers, I guess.”

“And if it was manipulated to produce steam, then it could be a power source as well. If the mineral can be isolated and perhaps added to other water supplies…”

“Or if maybe some of the water can be added to…uh…different water….” Cloud nodded. “Huh. Seems like it could really be the miracle Reeve wants, yeah?”

“Maybe.” Vincent was pessimistic as a rule, a holdover from his Turk training, perhaps. “Let’s see if the stream goes further back. If there _is_ a geothermal source, that could put a kink in the whole plan. It also might explain the disturbance Reeve noticed. Maybe whatever it is, it’s located at the source of this water.”

“Yeah, that’s a possibility.” Cloud suggested. “Let’s see if we can follow the stream to some kind of origin point.”

The stream led them through a series of passages, some of which were so narrow they were forced to crawl on their stomachs to traverse. Vincent was glad that claustrophobia had never been one of his issues. Thirty years sleeping in a box had cured him of that.

The stream began to widen, and it became obvious they were about to emerge into a central cavern. Vincent felt an odd prickle down his spine, the softest sensation like someone was dragging the tip of his own claw down his skin. He frowned, pausing, but Cloud kept continuing, apparently unaware.

“Cloud—”

“Hey, here’s the entrance,” Cloud said. “And I don’t know if there’s a storm, but it’s…gods. It’s all humid and misty in here. Foggy. Like a …sauna? I can barely see.”

Vincent moved forward. The rocks trembled around him. The feeling of disorientation grew worse, the prickle becoming a hundred needles, then a thousand.

The end of the cavern appeared, and Vincent rose to his feet. It did feel like a sauna, humid and misty, the sound of water echoing in the cavern.

“I don’t see anything, though. Like, a spring.” Cloud was waving his hand, like he could clear the mists. “It’s…warm in here.”

It was. Even Vincent could tell, which made him uneasy. “Something isn’t right here.”

“You feel that, too?” Cloud glanced at him and drew his sword. “I thought maybe it was just me.”

Vincent shook his head and pulled his weapon. Together, they moved forward through the mists.

“There’s something in here,” Vincent said. _What is it?_

_((A man.))_

“Chaos says it is a man.”

Cloud went still. “Vincent? Stay back.” He sounded incredibly tense, and very…tired.

Suddenly, Vincent knew who was there. He ignored Cloud’s admonition and stepped forward. He could make out the figure, just beyond; tall, with hair nearly the same color as the white steam. Vincent could only just make out the black pants, the black boots. The curve of a wing cutting into the thick clouds of white.

Sephiroth stood there, unarmed, eyes open and staring. The moisture in the air had flattened his distinctive bangs, and his hair was slicked off his face.  

“Cloud,” Vincent said, placing a hand on his shoulder. He could not look away from Sephiroth’s face. The resemblance between them was incredible.  “He’s unarmed.”

“It’s _Sephiroth_ ,” said Cloud. “He’s never unarmed.” He hadn’t blinked. Beneath Vincent’s hand, his muscles were tight, tense.

There was no sign of the Masamune. Sephiroth was watching them, but he hadn’t moved.

“Do you know who you are?”

His eyes snapped to Vincent’s and narrowed. He didn’t speak, simply nodded.

“Do you know who _I_ am?” Cloud asked, sword raised. His mouth was set, his blue eyes the color of a winter sky. Every inch a warrior, ready to slay the man standing in front of them. He would cut Sephiroth down, end his life, here in this cave.

Vincent would stand here and watch his son die. Again. Last time, there had been no blood; just an explosion of light when Cloud’s Omnislash tore him to pieces.

Somehow, Vincent knew things were different. _A man,_ Chaos had said.

Sephiroth was a man, and this time, he would bleed. Cloud would cut him down, and Vincent would stand there and watch the blood flow.

_No. I won’t have more blood on my hands. Not his. Never his._

Vincent moved and stood in front of Cloud. He folded his arms, gave a shake of his head. “No. I can’t let you do this. He’s unarmed, Cloud. You can’t cut him down.”

Cloud’s winter eyes were unforgiving. This was not Vincent’s lover. This was the Planet’s Champion. It was _him_ who was making Vincent’s hair stand on end, it was that well of power inside of him that Vincent was reacting to. That well of power drawing together to once again fight his archenemy.

“We know how this ends, Vincent,” said Cloud quietly. “Let me end it.”

“Not this time.” Vincent didn’t move. His hand settled on the butt of his gun.

“Do you know who that _is_?”

“Yes,” Vincent said, very softly. “He’s my son, Cloud.”

“What? Your – you can’t be serious!” Cloud’s eyes went wide. He looked between Vincent and Sephiroth, almost comically, several times. Vincent knew he was thinking about how Vincent looked without the cape and the cowl, with his dark hair slicked off his face like that morning in Kalm.

“Your son,” Cloud said, slowly. “Yours and Lucrecia’s. And you never told me. Why?”

Vincent bowed his head. “I told you, Cloud. My sins are many. And no matter what I do, it seems it is my destiny to commit them.”

Cloud lowered his sword. “I can’t let him live, Vincent. Not after what he’s done. You know that.” He swore and raked a hand through his hair, obviously conflicted.

“You’re my father?” Sephiroth’s voice, deep and resonate, interrupted them.

Vincent turned to look at him. He met those strange eyes and nodded. “Yes. I am.”  

“So you – Jenova, my mother….”

“Jenova was no one’s _mother_ ,” Cloud spat, eyes bright, mako-blue. A dangerous sign.

“Your mother’s name was Lucrecia Crescent. She was a beautiful, brilliant scientist. I – I will tell you. You deserve to know the truth.” Vincent held up his hands, stepped closer to the still figure of his son. “What do you remember?”

“I remember being a man. A voice, in here.” He tapped the side of his head. “She said she was my mother. There was a tank, and I – I tried to free her, she wanted me to free her.” He glanced at Cloud. “Someone killed me. You. Then I came back. I was angry. I wanted to end the world. I almost did, here, and then you stopped me. You. Always _you_.” Sephiroth didn’t sound angry as much as confused.

“Always me,” said Cloud, in a dead voice. He glanced at Vincent. “You can’t – Vincent. If you – if you can’t watch, go back to the main cavern. I’ll meet you when it’s done.”

Vincent shook his head. “Leave if you must. I will stay with him. But he deserves to know the truth of his origins. ShinRa used him, Cloud. Jenova used him. If he raises a hand to you, then…do what you must. But I cannot let you kill him like this.”

“Vincent,” Cloud said, again. He raked a hand through his hair. “This is fucking crazy.” He whirled on Sephiroth. “Do you remember the last time? In Midgar? We fought on the ShinRa tower. What’s left of it, anyway. You’d poisoned the Lifestream. You tried to kill me.”

Sephiroth’s brows drew together. “I – it is all very hazy. Without her voice, it seems…impossible. The things I’m remembering. And yet I feel as if I should hate you.”

“You should,” Cloud muttered. His right hand was twitching, obviously eager to go for his blade.

“You don’t hear her anymore, Jenova?” Vincent asked.

Sephiroth shook his head. “No.”

_((The Calamity’s influence is gone, from both your son and your lover.))_

Vincent waited for any other sign from his demon, but it was quiet.

As Vincent searched for something to say, some way to convince Cloud to either leave them or to let Sephiroth accompany them out of the cave, he heard a sound. A distant rumbling. “Do you hear that?”

“Yeah.” Cloud glanced at him. “It sounds like thunder.”

The sound came again, louder. Beneath his feet, the ground started to shake.

_((Remove yourself from this cavern at once.))_

“Easier said than done,” Vincent muttered. The sound came again, and the mist began to swirl. The ground shook again, and there was a crash behind them. The tunnel. “I think the lull in Reeve’s disturbance is over. We need to get out of here.”

“I think the tunnel just collapsed,” said Cloud, drawing his sword. “There has to be another way out of here.”

“There is,” said Sephiroth.

They stared at him. Sephiroth glanced upward. “It would seem you might not wish to leave me here, after all.”

The thunder came again, louder. In Vincent’s head, Chaos roared.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Cloud sat down, forcing himself to put his sword aside, to unclench his hands._
> 
> _This was going to end very, very badly._
> 
> In which things are uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to remind you to read the warnings, and that this fic will eventually contain consensual incest.

 

Chapter 7

Escaping from the cavern was a confused mess of hurtling upward through mist, what seemed to be rain, and a face full of feathers courtesy of Cloud’s archnemesis-turned-rescuer.

They came out through a caldera of some kind, and landed in a snowbank. Cloud rolled to his feet, sword drawn, eyes scanning for the distinctive silver-black of Sephiroth’s uniform mostly out of habit. But Sephiroth wasn’t facing him in full battle regalia. Sephiroth was facing him like they had, years ago, when it had been just the two of them in the ice, when that strange sensation had flooded through Cloud; a power he’d never felt before and that felt borrowed, watching as light tore Sephiroth into –

\--- into what? Had that been Sephiroth? Was _this_ Sephiroth? Jenova’s taint was gone – Cloud knew that – but what did that make him?

Besides Vincent’s son…and how foolish that Cloud hadn’t figured that out. That _any_ of them hadn’t.

_Shiva, they look just alike._

Cloud studied Sephiroth. He’d carried them out of the cavern and there’d been no reason to; if he’d wanted Cloud dead, he could have left them both there, or just rescued Vincent.

What did it mean that he hadn’t done that?

Cloud winced against the snow hitting him in the face, unsure what to do. Vincent was huddled in his cloak, not speaking. Sephiroth – _gods, again –_ was standing there, his wing wrapped around himself, hair whipping in the wind.

Sephiroth had saved them. He was no longer under the influence of Jenova, and he was Vincent’s son. Vincent’s _son_. Cloud had slept with Sephiroth’s father. Shiva, Ifrit and Ramuh, what was this madness?

Speaking of madness, the wind was picking up. It made it hard to think, let alone see.

“We need to find shelter,” Cloud called. He checked the navigation instruments, which were working, thank Shiva. They were miles off course, but at least he could find somewhere for them to camp for the night. He glanced at Sephiroth. “Can you fly in this weather?”

In lieu of a response Sephiroth’s wing flared out and he leaped upward. He came back a few seconds later, the wing already half-covered in white. “I’ll have to take frequent breaks to shake the ice off, but yes. Do you know where we’re going?”

Cloud nodded, but he didn’t want to get close enough to Sephiroth so that he could see. Cloud shoved the equipment at Vincent and pointed. “Show him.”

“I’m hardly likely to hurt you, seeing as how I just saved you from a cave-in,” Sephiroth huffed at him, sounding annoyed.

Cloud fixed him with a look, so angry he was sure he could have melted every inch of snow in the fucking Northern Continent. “You have tried to kill me. Three times.”

“And you _have_ killed me, apparently, three times,” Sephiroth retorted, pushing his hair out of his face. He shook his wing. “I’m sure you’d survive if I dropped you, anyway.”

“I did before,” Cloud snarled, remembering fighting above the ruins of the ShinRa Tower, falling and feeling like his bones were shattering as he hit concrete.

“And I did not, in Nibelheim, when you threw me down the reactor core.”

“I think you fell because you were dragging the decapitated head of your moth—”

“Enough.”

Vincent’s quiet voice made them both stop.

“I’m aware you have a complicated history and it will need to be addressed. But this is neither the time nor place for it.” Vincent crossed his arms over his chest. He looked very dramatic, the wind rustling his crimson cloak, his dark hair. “Sephiroth, give us your word you will not harm us and we will do the same.”

Cloud laughed. He couldn’t help it. “This is fucked up.”

“I give you my word I won’t harm you. But I _will_ defend myself.”

The irony of this was amazing. Cloud stared up into the sky and thought about taking his fucking chances with the snow. In the end, he muttered, “Fine, me too,” and stomped over to where Sephiroth was waiting.

Sephiroth slid an arm around him, and one around Vincent. He took off into the air, and even the stinging ice and wind in his face was preferable to thinking too hard about who was taking them to safety.

***

It took hours to make it to a suitable cave.

The first one Cloud had identified on the map was unreachable thanks to whatever cave in had driven them out of the caldera, and the navigation equipment gave up the ghost the longer they were outside in the elements. Sephiroth had to stop every so often to shake the ice out of his wings, and he was clearly suffering from the cold – same as Cloud – but refused to say anything.

His lips were blue. Cloud’s were sure his were, too.

Vincent tried to offer his cloak, but Sephiroth refused with a shake of his head.

Eventually they found a suitable location, and the three of them were soaked through. Cloud was relieved when Vincent got the fire started, though once he started to be able to feel his extremities he realized how quiet it was.

Cloud rummaged through his pack and found an MRE, then shoved the bag over to Sephiroth.

Sephiroth took one without looking at what it was – he probably knew better than anyone how terrible they were -- then passed the bag to Vincent.

“I do not require food, thank you.”

Sephiroth was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, wrapped up in one of the blankets. They were damp from the journey but better than nothing. His hair was damp, though his bangs had begun to dry in their familiar points.

“If you’re my father,” Sephiroth said, and his voice made Cloud’s sword-hand twitch, “why do you look no older than I?”

Vincent ducked his head, hiding his face. “Professor Hojo shot and killed me in my twenties. He experimented upon my corpse and kept me in mako. His wife –your mother – infused me with the demon Chaos to keep me from death. I do not eat or age because I am not technically alive.”

“I see.” Sephiroth took a bite of the MRE. “He shot you because, I assume, you were having an affair with my mother?”

“No. I was involved with both of them. He shot me because I had come up with a plan to get your mother out of Nibelheim. She was having nightmares when she was pregnant with you, and….Hojo knew if I did that, it would bring the ShinRa army down on our heads. He threatened to shoot me to incapacitate me if I didn’t listen to reason. I didn’t, so he shoot me.”

“Wait, you’re saying he didn’t mean to kill you?” Cloud blinked. “And you were – with _Hojo_?” It was clear that Cloud wasn’t the first man Vincent had slept with, but Hojo? Cloud remembered him as a man with stooped shoulders and a manic laugh.  

“At that time, I doubted he wanted to kill me. He hit an artery and I bled out before he could stop it. That’s why he reanimated me.” Vincent turned toward him and inclined his head. “And yes. I was. He was a different man, then. In many ways.”  

He said it so calmly. Cloud had no idea how to process this information. He’d thought he’d known Vincent fairly well until about six hours ago, and now….

“Why would ShinRa have cared?” Sephiroth asked. He was staring at Vincent.

“You were injected with Jenova cells in utero as part of a project. I…it is a long story, and I’m not proud of it, but I will tell you if you wish to know. It is my fault that you were…made into what you are. It is my fault that you grew up in a lab with a broken man instead of a house with a loving family. I do not expect you to forgive me for any of it.”

“Vincent,” Cloud said, softly. He knew how much Vincent’s guilt ate at him, he understood it more than maybe anyone – didn’t he feel the same way about Aerith? – but there was no way anyone could hold Vincent accountable for Sephiroth’s crimes.

Sephiroth shrugged. “There is no point rehashing the past. And I don’t even know your name.”

“Vincent Valentine.” Vincent looked over at him. Cloud could only see the faintest hint of his crimson eyes. Vincent hadn’t let Cloud see him naked, but he’d been comfortable enough to remove cape, cowl and the bandana. He was as hidden now as he’d ever been.

Sephiroth was staring so intently at Vincent that Cloud didn’t think he was even blinking. “You were there with Cloud and the others. When I was…stopped.”

 _When you were defeated, you mean,_ thought Cloud, but said nothing.

“I was there, yes. You were trying to destroy all life on the planet. It’s the nightmare your mother had, when she was pregnant. Originally she and the others though Jenova was a Cetra, but it wasn’t. Jenova was….”

“A calamity,” said Cloud. He closed his eyes. He did not want to rehash any of this. He didn’t want to look over and see his worst nightmare sitting there with his silver hair and those jade eyes. The fruitlessness of everything made him want to fucking weep. What was the point? Why find a potential new source of power for the planet if this would _never end?_ “Just like you. Something that destroys.”

“Apparently she was better than I am, since I’ve yet to manage it.”

At the _yet,_ Cloud’s eyes flew open and he was on his feet, reaching for his sword.

“I don’t have a shirt and you expect me to, what, Cloud? Hmm? Enact world domination from this cave?” Sephiroth looked up at him. “I have no sword. I suppose I could smack you with my wing. You’re not very big, but I doubt knocking you into a wall would do anything but annoy you further.”

“Let’s try it and see,” said Cloud, smiling grimly.

“I wonder if you’d be so confident if I _did_ have my blade,” Sephiroth muttered.

Cloud wanted to punch him in the mouth. “Yeah. I would. Know why? Because _I stopped you_. It wasn’t that you weren’t good enough, it wasn’t that you failed, it’s that _I was better._ I was better. I defeated you because _I won,_ not because you lost, do you get that?”

Sephiroth stared up at him. “You won because I was a failure. You were better because I wasn’t. It makes no difference to me. Either way, I lost. I won’t lie and say that doesn’t rankle. I hate that I was under the control of some bitch I was told was my mother, and I cannot express to you how much I hate not remembering the things I’ve done, but make no mistake, Cloud – I _should_ have bested you. I _should_ have killed you in Nibelheim, or here, or…wherever we fought last. And I did not. It is my _failure_. That it is your success does not change that.”

Cloud stared at him, his focus zeroed down to the man sitting there like he had any right to exist, swathed in silver hair and beauty he had no right to possess. “When I fight you. Every time. I … it does something to me. It takes some human part of me away, and I … I’m tired of it. I don’t _want_ to be the one who has to stop you all the time. I never did. I killed you in Nibelheim because I was young and terrified, and you’d hurt Zack and you’d killed my _mother_ and burned my home, and ….”

He stopped himself with effort. Cloud tilted his head up. “I will stop you. Again, and again, and again. As many times as I need to, to keep the people I love safe. And that won’t change. I don’t care whose son you are, or if you have your masamune or what.”

Sephiroth inclined his head. “Noted, Cloud.”

It wasn’t particularly combative, but it set his teeth on edge. Cloud sat down, forcing himself to put his sword aside, to unclench his hands.

This was going to end very, very badly.

***

So that was his father.

Sephiroth did his best not to stare, but it was difficult.

Vincent Valentine, former Turk, who hid himself behind a mess of dark hair and a swathe of red fabric. That was his father, and he knew his mother – his real mother, a woman named Lucrecia. Hojo’s wife. Hojo’s _wife_ , and Hojo had been the one to tell him the name _Jenova_ when Sephiroth asked.

The only time he’d ever asked about his mother, and Hojo had lied.

Of course he had. Sephiroth was a weapon, a product, a SOLDIER. That he had parents was irrelevant. Hojo had said that, hadn’t he? _I made you something better than a son._  

Sephiroth focused on finishing the MRE and taking some sort of mental stock of his physical self. He was warm now that the fire had eased the chill from his skin, and his wing had dried enough that he’d been able to retract it without it being painful or uncomfortable; when it was cold or wet, it left an unpleasant, burning, itching feeling on his back. He hadn’t thought he was particularly hungry, but he’d eaten every bite of the MRE.

“I see these are still terrible,” he said, frowning at the unfamiliar logo. “WRO?”

“World Regensis Organization,” said Vincent. “It’s dedicated to restoring the planet. That’s why Cloud and I are here.” He explained briefly about the search for a power source, and the water in the cavern. Hopefully it hadn’t been destroyed in the collapse.

Sephiroth wondered if he was supposed to feel guilty. His memory of what he’d done – it was there, hazy and unfragmented, and all of it seemed couched in layers of anger and a burning desire for vengeance.

_For whom? Genesis, Angeal? Myself? Or the creature I thought was my mother?_

Rage burned at the thought of the lies upon lies that had built the foundation of his life, and it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling; before Nibelheim, he’d been considering leaving ShinRa, fed up with being nothing but a figurehead for the corporation’s greed. He remembered how much he’d hated the planet when he’d summoned death from above. But now he wondered how much of that hatred was really his.

He saw Cloud by the fire, watching him with those mako-bright eyes, his hand resting by his sword. The Planet’s sentinel, ready to destroy if necessary. Sephiroth did not doubt Cloud could do it. He remembered this man’s purpose, his certainty, the power that came from some place within him that not even Sephiroth’s masamune could touch.

Sephiroth’s rage, on the other hand…it came from somewhere _without._

“Here.”

He glanced up. Valentine was holding something out to him – a long-sleeved black shirt.

“You’ll need something to wear. I don’t think any of Strife’s clothes will fit. My own will be tight, but it will do until we can find you something.”

Strife? Ah. Cloud. What an apt surname for the angry young man. Sephiroth took the shirt and pulled it over his head. He had to pull his hair from the back of it. It fit snugly, almost uncomfortably so; Valentine and he were of a similar height, which meant Vincent must be a lot leaner than he looked under all that fabric.

“I would see your face, Valentine,” Sephiroth said, softly. Part of him hated this, as admitting it was a weakness. But his curiosity was too powerful to ignore.

Valentine didn’t hesitate. He pulled the bandana off his head, unbuckled the cowl, and undid his swirling red cape. He dropped it all at his feet and then lifted his head to meet Sephiroth’s gaze.

Sephiroth had become used to the eyes, that strange and arresting shade of crimson. But the rest of Valentine’s face…

It wasn’t like looking in a mirror. It was something else, and it was…indescribable. Sephiroth stared. He could see an echo of his own features in Valentine’s own; the same sharp cheekbones, the same nose. Sephiroth reached out and Valentine did not stop him. He pushed the dark hair behind Vincent’s ear. They had the same ears. The same chin. This man was his _father._

Sephiroth took a step back. “You….” He didn’t know what to say.

Valentine’s lashes lowered. Sephiroth, despite the unusual color of his hair, had thick, dark lashes. Maybe ridiculous to assume he’d gotten those from Valentine, too.

“I know. It’s…strangely compelling, isn’t it. How similar we are. And you look like your mother, too. You have her eyes. Her mouth.” Valentine looked at him again. He reached out a hand and, as if he couldn’t help himself, touched the silver strands of hair framing Sephiroth’s face. “Her bangs. She…used to try and pin them back when she was working, but they never stayed.”

Valentine dropped his hand suddenly, as if he’d just realized what he’d been doing. “I apologize for touching you without permission.”

Something warm curled in his stomach. He wanted Valentine to touch him. _My father. This man is my father._ His gaze was hungry, consuming. Sephiroth wanted to touch him, his hair, his face, his skin, put his fingers in his mouth, climb _inside of him_ , his father, this was his father, _his father…._

Sephiroth remembered standing in front of a tank in Nibelheim, staring, enraptured by a creature behind glass that he’d thought was his mother. The desire to have answers, finally, about who he was…it had burned through him with a godly, cleansing fire and set him on a course from which he would not waver.

_Destroy, subjugate, take back, ascend._

_Ascend, bringer of fire, of ruin, of death from above._

In the end, though, it hadn’t been his course at all. Just something else that wanted to use him as a weapon in its war.

“My mother,” Sephiroth said, hesitantly. He didn’t even know what to ask.

Valentine nodded. “I will tell her of you.” He was staring at Sephiroth with a hungry look. Sephiroth was used to people looking at him that way; as if he were something to be consumed, used, taken. But there was something different in the way Vincent looked at him. It was simple, pure, without calculation or maliciousness.  

“You wish to touch me,” Sephiroth said quietly. He could feel Cloud’s eyes on them from across the cave but gave him no notice. This did not concern him.

Vincent nodded, those sanguine eyes alight. “I – yes.”

“Go on, then.” It came out perhaps gruffer than he intended. Sharper. Like a command.

Valentine didn’t seem to care. He steeped forward, lifted his human hand and touched Sephiroth’s face; the curve of his jaw, the cut of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. His touch was light, almost shy, caressing the curve of Sephiroth’s ear, his chin, his forehead.

The touch affected Sephiroth strongly. It caused goosebumps to shiver up and down his spine, skin prickling beneath the press of Vincent’s fingers. Sephiroth had been touched before; clinically by Hojo, in rough affection by Zack, sexually by Angeal and Genesis. It had never quite felt like this, and he wondered why that should be.

Vincent’s fingers smoothed back Sephiroth’s hair; the touch was as gentle as the others. Finally, Vincent drew his fingers down Sephiroth’s brow, his cheek, to his mouth.

Something strange happened, then. Sephiroth felt the press of fingers against his lips and opened his mouth mostly out of instinct, and it made heat curl low in his belly and that – that couldn’t be. This was his father, Gods, why was he thinking of taking those fingers in his mouth, sucking?

Vincent had gone very still. His red eyes were mako-bright and their strange coloration was oddly hypnotic. Sephiroth wanted to touch him, too. And he knew that he could not, _should_ not, because his body’s reaction was not appropriate.

Perhaps he was just confused. He’d been asleep, in ice, for a long time. And apparently he was more human than he’d thought, and enhanced though he was, still had human needs. Warmth. Rest. Food. Sex.

_No. He is beautiful, but he is your father. It does not matter that you appear to be the same age. You aren’t, and he can’t be yours._

_But he is yours,_ a voice murmured. It was a small voice, selfish, like that of a child. _He belongs to you in a way he belongs to no other._

Sephiroth couldn’t breathe.

Vincent took his hand away and the moment passed; Sephiroth did not ask about his mother, and Vincent swathed himself back in his folds of red and hid away behind his hair.

He sat very close to Cloud.

Sephiroth noticed this, and the glances that Cloud gave Vincent, and he wondered if he were misreading what he was seeing. A tangle of hot, ugly knots writhed beneath his sternum, the same feeling he used to get sometimes when he saw the way Angeal looked at Genesis, or heard them finish each other’s sentences from ease of long familiarity and friendship.

There was nothing untoward between Cloud and Vincent; no significant touches, no revealing words spoken. But when Cloud wasn’t glaring at Sephiroth in suspicion or hate, he was shooting poorly-disguised, curious and worried looks at Valentine.

It shouldn’t matter. It _didn’t._ And besides, even if Valentine and Strife were involved…well, Strife’s attitude was nothing short of murderously irritating but he was attractive, Sephiroth supposed, with those flashing blue eyes and that spiky hair that was as unyielding as the rest of him.

The two of them together….it was admittedly a lovely image. Though it shouldn’t be Sephiroth reminded himself again. Vincent was his _father._

 _He’s yours…_ that voice whispered, far less childishly this time.

Sephiroth had a pile of blankets and a freshly dry wing; he declined the offer of a tent and made a nest for himself in the spot away from the smoke but near the fire. His wing offered comfort and warmth, and the smell of his feathers’ down was soothingly familiar.

In the dark, Sephiroth could see the shape Cloud made in his tent, the flickering light of the fire throwing shadows on the nylon fabric.

Sephiroth could feel Vincent’s eyes on him in the dark.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I thought you liked strong emotions_ , Vincent taunted the demon. _I feel my guilt strongly, Chaos. Shouldn’t that feed you?_
> 
>  
> 
> _((Ah, my host. That is what you have never understood. You don’t feel guilt, you suffer it. It is the closed lid of your casket, the quiet in which you dream, and your nightmares are nothing but echoes. I would have you awake.))_
> 
>  
> 
> ....angst, banter, the usual. And Sephiroth remembers someone he's forgotten.

Chapter Eight

_((It’s not like you were the only one thinking it.))_

Vincent gritted his teeth, pulled his cape up, and did his best to ignore his demon.

Chaos wasn’t having any of it. _((Come now, my dark one. You know I’m right.))_

Vincent didn’t want to think about if Chaos were right or not. He wanted to forget it had happened, that moment when Sephiroth’s mouth had parted, his breath on Vincent’s fingertips. How it felt to touch him, how the simple joy in touching his son’s face had become something darker.

Something so very, very wrong.

_((He’s yours and you want him, he wants you…why is it wrong?))_

Vincent knew the demon was goading him, but this time, it worked. _Because he is my son. You do not want to fuck your own child._

_((You do, though. And he wants you to. So I ask again, dark one – what is the problem?))_

_I’m not sure if you’re being obtuse just to goad me, or if you really don’t know. But humans don’t --- they don’t lay with their own children. It is beyond what is acceptable. It is wrong._

_((I’ve seen them do it before,))_ Chaos offered.

Vincent refused to allow himself to be curious. _It doesn’t matter. I have wronged him in so many ways, I will not abuse him._

_((Strange you would show such compassion to a man who nearly ended the planet’s existence on the whim of an alien bitch.))_

Vincent’s eyebrows raised. _Strange you would spare his life when you are sworn to protect the Planet._

_((That is not my purpose, Vincent. My purpose is to gather souls for Omega on the day it is time for us to depart to a new world.))_

The “us” was a bit alarming. Vincent occasionally forgot about what it meant that he would live forever, and that eventually Chaos would be called upon to perform his duty in truth. _It doesn’t anger you that he tried to force your purpose into being before it was the appointed time?_

 _((That was the Tsviets,))_ Chaos reminded him. _((Sephiroth’s plan never came to fruition. I would have risen to take the souls if they had been delivered by meteor to the Lifestream, but they were not.))_

Metaphysics had always given Vincent a headache. _You make it sound like you knew all along Sephiroth wouldn’t succeed._

_((The Planet had its champion. The champion prevailed. This is very boring, dark one. The past is of no interest to me.))_

That much was true. As a demon, Chaos cared mostly about the present, perhaps a bit about the immediate future. But the past was over and therefore irrelevant; and he shared his existence with Vincent, who thought of little else.

 _((Except wanting to sleep with your son))_ Chaos pointed out, helpfully.

Shame nearly drove Vincent to throw himself off the next cliff. He could not believe that it had happened, his body reacting like that to – his _son_ –

_((His reacted the same, I keep telling you that.))_

Somehow, Chaos thought that should matter. And Vincent tried to tell himself he hadn’t wanted to _fuck_ Sephiroth, his body had just…reacted…inappropriately. That was all.

“Hey.”

Vincent blinked; he’d been having such an intense conversation with Chaos that he hadn’t realized Cloud had appeared next to him. And of course, that was just one more thing for which he could feel guilty.

_((Why? You were with two people, before. You know that wanting to fuck one doesn’t mean you can’t want to fuck the other one, too.))_

_I should not have sexual thoughts about my son. And even were he not my son, I should not have sexual thoughts about a man who has tried three times to kill Cloud._

_((But Cloud always wins.))_

“Vincent?”

“I am sorry, Cloud,” Vincent said, forcibly ignoring his bantering demon. “Chaos is chatty today.”

“Ah.” Cloud glanced at him. Sephiroth was ahead scouting; the black wing was stark against the whiteness of his hair and the snowy landscape. “Because of Sephiroth?”

Vincent nodded. He was too ashamed to admit that it was about his unfortunate physical reaction to touching his son. He felt sick when he thought about Lucrecia, what she would say if she knew.

_((How about if that bitch has a problem, she can thaw herself out of her self-made prison and speak up.))_

“I, um. Wanted to tell you. You don’t…uh. Owe me anything. I mean.” Cloud shook his head. “Tch. I’m bad at this.” He gave Vincent a wry smile. He looked tired. Vincent doubted that he’d slept much since finding Sephiroth. “I know this is a big, uh. Thing. So don’t worry about me.”

“I’m worried about you because I want you to be all right,” Vincent said, putting a careful hand on Cloud’s shoulder. He remembered how it felt to have Cloud beneath him, gasping and clutching at his shoulders while Vincent fucked him hard.

 _((This is much better,_ )) Chaos purred. _((If you have to think of the past, make it something enjoyable.))_

“I know. But I….well, I’m not good at much,” Cloud said, with his usual self-depreciating candor. “But I can stop him if I have to. I just…if I have to, are you gonna be okay?”

“I knew he was my son every time you fought him, Cloud,” said Vincent. “And I recall doing nothing but helping you.”

Cloud met his gaze with an even stare. “Not this time.”

“Jenova is gone and he is unarmed,” Vincent pointed out. “And if he attempted to harm you, I would put a bullet in him myself. One shot, between the eyes.” He touched two fingers to his temple. Once a Turk, always a Turk. They shot to kill.

Cloud exhaled slowly, his breath a light mist of condensation in the frigid air. “I – yeah, I know that. I do, really. It’s less that and more….I don’t know. We had something, right? Me and you, I mean.”

“I’d like to think we still do,” said Vincent.

Cloud looked pleased, which eased some of Vincent’s tension. “Yeah. But I want you to not…I don’t know what’s gonna happen when we get back to Midgar, but I want to see where it goes. With us, I mean.”

“So do I, Cloud. So do I.” Vincent stepped closer. “Very much.” He tipped Cloud’s chin up and leaned down to kiss him.

“Sephiroth—” Cloud murmured, against his mouth.

“Is scouting ahead,” Vincent murmured back, and kissed him. It was a brief kiss, but Cloud’s mouth was warm and his eyes were glazed when it ended. The tenuous thing between them was still there. The attraction was, most certainly.  

“So…Hojo?” Cloud asked, as they started walking. The snow was getting thick enough that it wasn’t easy.

Vincent sighed. He knew this would be hard to explain. Cloud’s last memory of Hojo would have been of a madman perched at a mako cannon, claiming Sephiroth was his son and that he was going to help him bring about the end of all things.

It was hard to reconcile that man with the one Vincent had first known; brilliant and arrogant, yes, but Hojo had a wicked sense of humor, a singular focus when he was interested in something that was almost inhuman, and took an unholy delight in making Vincent fall apart in his bed.

He’d been scarecrow-thin and all crags and angles when Vincent had last seen him, carved out by madness and the ambition that was all he’d been left with after that fateful night in Nibelheim.

Sephiroth’s birthday. The night that reduced them all to caricatures of themselves, so that Hojo became nothing but his work, Lucrecia her indecision and Vincent his guilt.

Ah, but before that night, they’d been so much more. Hojo, who perpetually smelled like his favorite cloves, who sometimes spoke Wutain when he was angry, or half-asleep, or impossibly turned on. Vincent remembered when Hojo fresh out of a shower with his hair unbound, framing a face that was stark but defined, handsome in its intensity.

“When we were younger, he was a different man,” Vincent said, speaking carefully. He couldn’t say that Hojo had been a _good_ man, but then again, neither had Vincent. “And please remember what I did for a living, Cloud. I was an assassin and I killed for ShinRa. Not like the army, or SOLDIER. I killed from the shadows, and I killed whoever they told me to and I never asked why.” He held up a hand when Cloud looked like he was going to argue. “I was a monster long before I harbored my demons, Cloud. Don’t forget that.”

“What I’m not going to forget, Vincent, is how you came with us. Fought with us. I’ll think about you, next to me on  deck of the Highwind when we fought Ultimate Weapon. Showing up to fight Bahamut Sin. There’s a lot I won’t forget about you, and it’s all good.”

Vincent shook his head. Cloud was, though he was sure it would provoke an argument, at heart a good man who didn’t believe himself to be good _enough_. Vincent knew the truth of himself; he was a bad man struggling to do good, for once, to atone for all those kill shots he took in the dark, all those bodies he left cold on the floor.

The woman he loved and couldn’t save. The man he’d forced into locking away his heart to save a child. The child he’d abandoned –

_((Think about fucking Cloud again. Think about fucking your son. Just stop this litany of your sins, my dark one. It serves no purpose.))_

_I thought you liked strong emotions,_ Vincent taunted the demon. _I feel my guilt strongly, Chaos. Shouldn’t that feed you?_

_((Ah, my host. That is what you have never understood. You don’t feel guilt, you suffer it. It is the closed lid of your casket, the quiet in which you dream, and your nightmares are nothing but echoes. I would have you awake.))_

_I would have you be quiet,_ Vincent returned, but perhaps there was something there to think about. Perhaps.

Sephiroth returned in a flurry of black-and-silver. His clothes and wing were caked with ice, and there were icicles caught in the tips of his bangs. He looked like an avatar of Shiva.

“You look ridiculous,” Cloud told him. It might have passed for cheerful, if it hadn’t been for the unmistakable tone of _challenge_ that underscored all of Cloud’s interactions with Vincent’s son.

“Yes, well, I’m being _helpful,_ Strife,” Sephiroth drawled, in the same tone. Their mutual dislike was palpable. “And I wouldn’t laugh at my hair until you’ve seen yours.”

“Yours is ridiculous even when it isn’t frozen,” said Cloud.

“So is yours,” Sephiroth snapped back. “You look like a chocobo.”

They were like a pair of bickering children, though the comparison made Vincent uncomfortable since he was sleeping with one of them.

_((And you want to sleep with the other one.))_

Vincent ignored that. He did not want to sleep with Sephiroth. His body had reacted in a confused way when he’d touched him, yes. But that was…it didn’t matter and it didn’t mean anything. Who knew how to respond in this situation, meeting the long-lost son who’d almost destroyed the world…twice? Who was beautiful, and looked no older than Vincent?

“There is a storm coming,” Sephiroth said, carefully raking his fingers through his icy hair. “And if you want to keep laughing at me, Strife, you’re welcome to trudge through it.” He flared his wing, ostensibly to clear the ice and snow, but Vincent knew without a doubt that he did it so he could smack Cloud on the back of the head.

“I will cut that wing off and make it a coat if you do that again,” Cloud threatened.

“You’ll look like a toddler dragging a blanket,” Sephiroth countered.

“If we could keep going,” Vincent interrupted, dryly.

They couldn’t. No sooner had Vincent opened his mouth than out of the snow came a pack of gargoyles. Their monster encounters had been few and far between thus far, but Vincent drew his gun with confidence and took aim. Likewise, Cloud had drawn his sword, separating it into two pieces and attacking with gusto.

Sephiroth leaped forward as well, blade flashing as he dispatched one of the creatures.

Cloud finished with the last of them while Vincent holstered his weapon. Cloud fought up-close-and-personal, so his sword wasn’t the only thing covered in blood when he slid the pieces of First Tsurugi into place. Vincent had seen him fight before; when he separated two of his blades, he put them back together, and then sheathed the weapon behind his back with a small twirl.

He’d rejoined the swords, but he was still holding it. Facing Sephiroth, his eyes narrowed. He did not look as if he were finished fighting.

It took Vincent a moment to realize what happened. Sephiroth had masamune. It, too, was stained with monster blood.

“Where,” Cloud said, and that was all.

“I don’t know.” Sephiroth looked at the sword in his hand. “I’ve never known. It simply appears when I need it.”

“You have a magical disappearing sword and you don’t know how it works?”

“I surmised it was _magic_ , Cloud.” He was still holding masamune, though with the point of the deadly blade aimed at the snow-covered ground.

Cloud was gripping his sword with both hands. His breathing was light, too-fast. He was in a ready stance, his entire focus narrowed down to Sephiroth.

“The weather is not getting better,” said Vincent.

“No.” Cloud shook his head. “I – _no._ ”

Sephiroth glanced from Cloud to Vincent, then raised his sword – and sheathed it at his back. “We should keep going.” Very deliberately, he turned his back on Cloud and began to walk.

Vincent watched Cloud, the play of emotions on his face. He watched him take a step forward, sword gripped hard…then shake his head, twirl it almost angrily and sheathe it. Vincent watched as Cloud raised his right hand and rubbed it over the spot on his chest where his scar was. The scar Sephiroth had left with his blade.

_((Don’t take on his guilt, too, Vincent. I cannot abide it. Yours fashions a ponderous enough chain.))_

Vincent sighed and followed his son. He did not know what to do about Cloud and Sephiroth. Cloud had his reasons to mistrust Sephiroth, and Sephiroth having his blade returned to him by such mysterious means…

_((Sephiroth should pierce Strife again, all right. Just with a different kind of sword.))_

_I’ve never known you to be so interested in sex,_ Vincent thought at his demon with a frown.

 _((Thanks to you, I’ve never been around it before.))_ His demon was amused. _((I feed on energy, Vincent. I am of the earth. Sex is primal energy. It is earthy. I don’t know what else to tell you.))_

_Then try being quiet._

Chaos laughed, and Vincent kept walking.

***

That night they made camp in something that could only barely be called a cave, and but was at least large enough for a tent. Just one tent, though, which meant they would have to share it.

Sephiroth and Cloud cleaned their weapons like the experienced swordsmen they were. They might have looked like two old war buddies if it weren’t for Cloud’s obvious, angry suspicion, which was matched by Sephiroth’s aloof coldness. Sephiroth did glance with interest at Cloud’s sword, but only when Cloud couldn’t catch him.

They mistrusted each other intensely. Vincent knew they had their reasons, and said nothing while they finished up with their weaponry and took off their boots so they could enter the tent without dragging in wet snow and mud.

Vincent sat in the middle, not because he needed to for warmth but because it seemed a good idea to keep the other two separated.  

Vincent had done this before, slept with Lucrecia and Hojo in one bed. Sometimes Lucrecia was in the middle, sometimes he was. As Lucrecia’s pregnancy progressed, Vincent spent more time there than she did. He would roll over and end up entangled in her sweet-smelling hair.

On his other side, Hojo; his thick, glossy dark hair unbound and smelling like cloves.

Now he had, on one side, Cloud; whose hair, no matter how wet the snow made it or how damp it became, still went back into those surprisingly soft blond spikes. Cloud, with those pretty blue eyes made even more stunning by mako, a body battle-hardened and confident, strength in every muscle and sinew.

And on his other side –

\-- his son. Sephiroth, the mass of his silver hair braided over one broad shoulder, his long legs stretched out, clad in their leather trousers. His skin was as pale as Vincent’s, but with a sort of otherworldly sheen to it. Vincent’s just looked – well. Dead.

“Your eyes are unusual,” Sephiroth said, in the quiet. Vincent turned on his side to look at him.

He smiled. “So are yours.” The slit-pupils were unnerving, especially up close. But the shiver Vincent got from looking at them –

_No._

_((Oh, dark one. You try so hard not to feel.))_

“I asked Hojo once why he did it. He gave me some song-and-dance about making my eyesight stronger than a normal human’s, but now….I don’t know if I believe him.”

 _They can’t know he’s mine, Hojo,_ Vincent had begged. _Please make sure they don’t know!_

Vincent closed his eyes. “It was my fault. I – I asked him to keep you safe from ShinRa, so that they wouldn’t know you were mine. He made the alterations to your coloring for that reason.”

“So no one would know you’re my father?”

The word thrilled him, even though it shouldn’t. He should be suffering the reminder of what his cowardice, his refusal to stand up to Veld and ShinRa, cost his son. What it caused him to become…. “Yes. So they wouldn’t know I was your father.”

“I see.” There was no judgement in his voice. “So. Were it not for that, one would assume I would have had your hair color. Your eye color.”

“I’m not sure about your hair. It’s…very similar to your mother’s.” It occurred to him that Sephiroth likely didn’t know what color her hair was, since he had never seen her before. “Her hair was brown. And…straight. Like yours. But yes, you would have had my eyes. All Valentine males have them.”

“I don’t know if I can…my name. Sephiroth Valentine.”

Next to them, Cloud made a soft snort.

Sephiroth immediately scowled. “Your first name is _Cloud_.”

“Yeah,” Cloud said, amused. “But it’s not _Cloud Valentine._ ”

“I wasn’t aware you found my surname that amusing, Cloud,” Vincent said, turning to look at him.

Cloud was resting on his stomach beneath a pile of blankets, in his insulated sleeping bag. He turned his head and gave Vincent a rare smile. “I have a badass last name.”

“It’s certainly appropriate,” Sephiroth muttered.

Cloud didn’t look offended, probably because Sephiroth couldn’t see him. He yawned. “Yup.”

Vincent turned back to Sephiroth, once again struck by how much his son looked like him. “I have said before, I will tell you the story of how you came to, how…how things were, with me and Hojo, and your—your mother. It is not a kind story, and if I am…if I am a good man now, which I would not say, necessarily, that I am…I was not, then. And—”

“Vincent,” Sephiroth said, and another little thrill went down Vincent’s spine at the sound of his son saying his name. “I would hear this story and you needn’t worry—by the time I was fourteen I’d killed scores of men in Wutai. Given what else I’ve done, I hardly think you’re in any position to claim you’re a worse man than I.”

He said it so dispassionately. And it was Vincent’s fault, wasn’t it? He’d begged Hojo to take Sephiroth, to keep him safe. Hojo had done what he could, disguising Sephiroth’s true features with J-cells and mako, selling him to ShinRa as a super-soldier and therefore effectively hiding him in plain sight. Or maybe Hojo had done exactly what he’d always intended, and Vincent was still giving him too much credit.  

“But I would rather hear it without an audience,” Sephiroth continued.

Vincent understood that, but he also knew that if Cloud were serious, if Cloud wanted what had so tentatively sprung up between them to grow…then he would have to hear this confession, too.

“I think we need to worry about getting back to the cabin,” Cloud said, from beside him. “Stories can wait.”

That seemed understandable, but Vincent was honest enough to admit that perhaps he was just stalling. He had them both, in some capacity, right now – and after they heard his confession, Vincent doubted that would be true.

But he would do it anyway, regardless of the pain it would cause. At least Chaos would enjoy that.

***

_The sound of her crying was so annoying._

_Sephiroth frowned, paused in the form he was running through and decided he’d had enough. It was distracting and he didn’t like it. How was he supposed to impress the Professor and the Wutain swordmaster if he couldn’t practice? And who could practice with all that racket?_

_Sephiroth hung up his practice sword and marched out of the makeshift training area, following the sound. He found her in one of the rooms, sitting on a table, her hair tied up in a pretty pink ribbon and her soft green eyes shimmering with tears. She was sobbing like the people the Professor sometimes escorted into the room with the mako tanks._

_“What’s wrong with you?” Sephiroth asked, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re making it very hard for me to concentrate.”_

_She saw him, and her lip trembled. “I gotta get a shot. I don’t like needles, Seph.”_

_Sephiroth usually hated when people tried to call him anything but his name. Professor Hojo said it was “demeaning,” but for some reason, he didn’t mind when she did it. “It’s just a shot. Don’t be such a baby. I get them all the time.” He smiled at her, a little evilly, and pointed. “In my_ eyes _, sometimes.”_

_She sniffled. “B-b-but you’re a SOLDIER. I’m just a little girl.”_

_“It doesn’t mean you gotta cry about everything,” Sephiroth said, hopping up on the table next to her. “What kind of shot is it? Mako?” Mako shots did hurt, and Sephiroth was maybe lying just a little. He’d gotten shots in his eyes, but he’d been a baby – an actual baby, not pretending to be one, like she was._

_The nurse came in, and as usual, paused with something caught between fascination and horror at the sight of the silver-haired boy. The nurse gave him something that was maybe supposed to be a smile and began to prepare the needle on a tray. The little girl next to him kicked her heels against the stainless steel of the table. She was wearing pink shoes with little white flowers. The shoes were shiny. Her white socks had ruffles on them._

_“I j-just don’t like needles. They hurt.” She blinked tear-filled eyes up him._

_“It only hurts for a second,” Sephiroth huffed. “That’s all.”_

_The little girl looked up at him with her wide, green eyes. Sephiroth felt funny because she was little, way smaller than him, but for a second she looked older, older even than Professor Hojo. And the way she looked at him was weird, too. Like she was looking inside of him, at the things he kept secret._

_And she looked sad. Like she saw something, a bad something, like maybe a bad dream that hadn’t happened yet._

_“One day you’ll forget,” she said, in a voice that sounded faraway and too grown-up._

_“Huh?” Sephiroth blinked. “Forget what?”_

_“Me,” she said, in that same strange voice. “I’ll be scared, like now. And you’ll forget me. But you’ll still tell me that it’ll only hurt for a second.”_

_“Hey. It’s just a shot,” Sephiroth said, again, because he didn’t understand and he did not like things that he didn’t understand. He poked her shoulder. “You’re being weird.  Stop.” He tried to say it in a SOLDIER voice, the kind that would be obeyed._

_She stared at him for a second and then it was over, she was little again and her eyes weren’t old. “Will you hold my hand?”_

_“I guess,” he said, making sure she knew how stupid he thought it was just by the tone of his voice. He grabbed her hand in his – why was it sticky? – and held it. He stared resolutely at the door. This wasn’t a thing SOLDIERs should do. He was supposed to hurt people, not be nice to them._

_The nurse came over and made soothing noises, rolling up the little girl’s sleeve. Sephiroth bit his lower lip. He didn’t like that she was crying. It made him feel funny. He glared at the nurse, as if it were her fault. She better make it quick like Sephiroth promised, or else he’d get his sword and show that nurse why she should be afraid of him…._

_The little girl turned and pressed her face into Sephiroth’s shoulder as the nurst gave her the shot. She made a single noise, a hiccup sound, and then it was over. She pulled her hot face out of Sephiroth’s neck and gave him a sweet smile, wiping the tears off her round cheeks. “You were right,” she said. “It only hurt for a second.”_

_“Told you so.” Sephiroth hopped off the table. He could have left but he didn’t, waiting while they affixed a bright pink band-aid to the miniscule little wound. When it was time for her to get down, she shook her head at the nurse and reached to Sephiroth to help her._

_When she was on the ground, she hugged him. She was small, and the ribbon in her hair tickled his chin.  “Thank you.” She pulled back and smiled up at him, as if the pain never was. “Come play with me?” She held her hand out, waiting._

_Sephiroth almost took it – in fact, he took two steps toward her before remembering that he hadn’t practiced done enough today, and he well knew the price for failure. “I can’t right now.”_

_“It’s okay,” the little girl said with a smile. Her eyes looked old again. “I forgive you.”_

_Sephiroth turned and left her there, going back to his sword, to the things he knew, the things that made sense._

_“Bye, Sephiroth!” she called, her voice following him as he walked down the hallway._

_He didn’t turn around, but he lifted a hand and said, “Goodbye, Aerith,” and heard her giggling as she skipped down the hall, in the opposite direction._

***

Sephiroth opened his eyes.

She’d been right.

He had forgotten her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this entire fic is not the three of them hiking endlessly. We reach the cabin in the next chapter, promise.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sephiroth as an arch-enemy is dangerous. Sephiroth as a human might be even more so.

Chapter 9

It took three days before they made it back to the cabin. And it was only that quick because Sephiroth could fly, though the storm severely limited the distance they could travel even via the air.

Cloud didn’t want to think about how long it would have taken them to walk, even though he refused to vocalize his gratitude to Sephiroth.

The cabin looked mostly the same, except they had to dig the snow away from the door. Cloud was relieved when they got inside; after spending the last two nights in a tent with Vincent and his arch-enemy, he was grateful for a little more space.

There was also a bathroom with a _shower_ , which all three of them needed.

They were all a mess, which became evident as they stripped down once inside. They’d run into enough monsters that Cloud could feel grime and guts caked on his clothes and in his hair, which felt like it would be perpetually frozen.

Sephiroth’s silver hair, which was always so perfect, was pulled back in a ponytail. It changed his appearance in a way that made him somehow look younger. It also didn’t help that instead of his distinctive black coat, he was wearing something of Vincent’s that didn’t fit him well.

Or, it fit him a little _too_ well.

The problem with spending time with Sephiroth when he wasn’t trying to kill him was that Cloud was faced with the uncomfortable truth of his attraction. It wasn’t as if being attracted to Sephiroth was an insane idea – archenemy or not, the man was beautiful in a way few people ever would be, and their past history meant they had a connection that Cloud couldn’t deny. But Cloud’s attraction was inherently complicated; old vestiges of hero worship caught up with echoes of a camaraderie that wasn’t his, memories of being controlled by Sephiroth thanks to their shared Jenova cells and the hazy ecstasy of handing over the black materia.

And then, of course, there was their fights to the death. The panic of what Cloud stood to lose if Sephiroth won. The memory of that goddamn sword piercing his chest. Vague enough from Nibelheim, the scar long-since healed by the mako. But their last encounter above the ruins of the ShinRa Tower, when Sephiroth purred _is this the pain you remember, Cloud?_ while thrusting his sword deep into Cloud’s chest.

Cloud piercing Sephiroth with his swords, with the planet’s light of truth.

In its own strange way, killing was more intimate a thing than sex. Thrust and parry and bury your sword deep….and the release of all the tension at the end of the battle, the relief as short-lived as an orgasm because _Sephiroth never stayed dead._

“You’re glaring at me again,” Sephiroth said, dripping onto the floor. He’d shucked off his boots and socks and stood there barefoot.

Cloud was struck by the sight. He wasn’t sure why, other than it made Sephiroth look so oddly human. Cloud glanced back up at him and shrugged. “Shut up.”

Sephiroth tried to remain impassive, but Cloud could tell he annoyed him. It was heartening. Cloud turned to Vincent, who had stripped his cape and cowl, looking lean and dangerous and just as dirty as the two of them. Suddenly, Cloud wanted to get out of his clothes and into something clean and dry – really dry, not just _dry enough_ – immediately.

Sephiroth’s drawl broke the silence. “I assume a fight to the death for the first shower shall be required?”

“You know,” Cloud snarled, hands on his hips as he faced his insufferable nemesis, “You don’t need to mock me like you didn’t lose every fucking one of them.”

“You assume I was joking.” Sephiroth’s serpentine eyes narrowed. “Since everything with you is a fight, I assumed this one would be rather epic.”

Cloud’s mouth twitched. He would not smile. Even if that was kind of funny because it was true. Also, Sephiroth looking like a cranky, drowned cat was even funnier.

“So I’m not allowed to make jokes regarding our past, but you can _laugh_ at me?” Sephiroth arched one eyebrow. Cloud had only ever seen Vincent do that. Must be hereditary.

“It’s just.” Cloud bit back his amusement with effort. He was losing his gods-damned mind, obviously. “You look like you’re melting. You’re dripping everywhere.”

“And you don’t?”

Cloud raked a hand through his own wet hair. He knew he looked just as ridiculous. And gods, they all smelled _terrible._ Enhanced senses were a curse.  

“I will find you some more clothes,” said Vincent, to Sephiroth. “And rather than battling for the shower, perhaps we could just agree on an order? I will go last.”

Of course he would. Cloud sighed. “Sephiroth should go first. His hair will take longer to dry.”

“Why, Cloud, how positively considerate of you.” Sephiroth smirked. “But you should go first. You’ll be the fastest, given your lack of –”

“Watch it--”

“I was going to say your lack of _hair_ ,” Sephiroth said, straight-faced.

Cloud scowled. Vincent looked between them with an expression that Cloud couldn’t quite translate.

“Go on, Cloud,” Vincent said. “I’ll find Sephiroth some suitable clothing.”

Cloud marched over to the gear they’d brought, grabbed a change of clothes and three pairs of clean, blessedly dry socks as well as some fingerless gloves and headed into the bathroom with two towels.

Stripping off the rest of his clothes was unpleasant. He was grimy everywhere, caked with dried sweat, and the smell of – basically everything – made him wrinkle his nose in disgust. He was grateful the mirror was fogged up and he was spared his appearance.

The water felt like actual heaven – at least it did after Cloud adjusted the temperature and it didn’t scald his skin off. Once it was a more comfortable temperature, he grabbed the soap and a washcloth and went to work. He might have shorter hair than his companions but he was still filthy, the water turning all sorts of interesting colors from the combination of snow, sweat, mud, and monster blood.

Ew.

He wanted to stay in there for hours, but he didn’t want Vincent to end up with a cold shower. So he finished up, dressed in his wonderfully clean clothes and carried the soiled ones out to the living room. The cabin had a washer and dryer, so he shoved everything in there and fell on the bed with a happy smile. The fire had warmed up the cabin nicely. Cloud had forgotten how cold the Northern Continent was, and he’d be happy to forget it again.

“Shiva, this bed feels good.” Cloud stretched, sighing with momentary contentment. Sometimes it really was the little things in life.

Sephiroth gave him an unreadable look as he, and an armful of clothes, passed by and headed into the bathroom. Cloud waited for him to shout something about how he’d left the bathroom a mess, or there was no hot water, but the only sound was the shower and the exhaust fan.

Vincent came over, stripped down to his utility pants and the long-sleeved black shirt that was similar to Cloud’s. He was still wearing his red headband, which was soaked and turned brownish from mud. He had streaks of it on his face. “I sent a message to Reeve while you were in the shower.”

Cloud pushed up on his elbows. “Yeah?”

Vincent nodded. He was keeping his distance, but his eyes were running over Cloud like he wanted to touch him. “He sent us one in return, if you’d like to listen.”

The idea of getting up and going over to the console where the communications equipment was seemed to fill his entire body with lead. Cloud felt like he’d been hit by a Slow. He shook his head and yawned. “I’ll listen later. What’s the gist?”

“The information we sent arrived, about the water. Reeve says they think it’s going to be able to replace mako.”

Cloud smiled. Good news, for once. What a nice fucking change of pace. “Really?”

Vincent nodded. “The water heats itself because of the mineral, which can be introduced by a small drop from the water we found. Beyond that, he thinks the mineral itself is simply part of the rocks and that lining pipes with that mineral…I’m not sure exactly, I’ve never been much of a scientist. But he says the prognosis had everyone breaking out the champagne.”

“Great,” Cloud said, dryly. “Better name it after us. The Valentine-Strife mineral or something.” It left out Sephiroth, but that was fine with Cloud.

Though, no, it didn’t, did it? Sephiroth was, technically, a Valentine.

“Then there’s the bad news,” said Vincent.

“I’m surprised you didn’t lead with that,” Cloud said, only half-joking. “I would have.”

Vincent’s mouth quirked up. He was so attractive it made Cloud’s fingers curl into his palms. Gods, but he wanted to touch Vincent, take him in the shower, clean him and take his wet cock into his mouth. Cloud gave a little shake of his head. Not the time for fantasizing.

“There’s another storm right behind this one. Reeve thought there would be a window where they could come and get us, but it would appear this one is lingering and the two will merge. It won’t be possible.”

Cloud wasn’t that surprised. “We’re stuck here until the spring.”

Vincent nodded. “We could make it to Icicle at some point, but, yes. And of course, there are…complications.”

Right. The man currently taking a shower.

“I didn’t say anything in my return message, just that we’d arrived and were prepared to winter here. We have everything we need. We’ll need wood for the fire, and I’m sure there’s winter game if you’re tired of the MREs. Of which there are plenty for two people.”

The problem wasn’t with supplies. The problem was Cloud and Sephiroth, who would be in close company for a little more than two months. Cloud let himself fall back on the bed with a huff. “Shiva, how could we have planned for this?”

“We couldn’t. Cloud, I…” Vincent dropped his voice. “I would like the time with him.”

Cloud narrowed his eyes. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Vincent looked so young without his cape and the cowl. “I don’t know what to do. But I need to tell him about his mother, and I want you to hear it. If you still wish to…be with me…after you do, then….”

“Then what?” Cloud studied him. “You’ll be surprised?”

“Well.” Vincent inclined his head. “Yes. But you should know what kind of – of man I am.”

“I keep telling you,” Cloud said, standing up. “I already know what kind of man you are.” He moved closer to Vincent, who held his hands out as if in warning.

“I’m filthy,” Vincent protested, and for a moment Cloud thought that was metaphorical until he realized no, Vincent was referring to his current physical state. “And if I put my hands on you right now, I’m not sure I could stop.”

Cloud wondered if Sephiroth could hear them, with his enhanced senses. He wasn’t sure that he cared. “I wouldn’t want you to stop.”

Vincent reached out with his claw, which was cleaner than the rest of him. He traced the edges of Cloud’s mouth with it. Lust shivered down Cloud’s spine and he parted his lips, carefully licking at the talons so gently tracing against his lips. He stared at Vincent, lost in the burn of his crimson eyes, fighting the urge to sink to his knees.

He licked the cold metal and Vincent shivered visibly. “Gods,” he breathed, voice soft and shaking with arousal. “You look so…Cloud…”

“I’ll listen to your story,” Cloud said, keeping his own voice barely above a whisper. “And after that, will you show me your scars?”

Vincent closed his eyes. “So that I can seem to be more of a monster?”

“Vincent.” Cloud reached out, his human fingers tracing the talons, holding them in place so he could lick them delicately. They were sharp, but the metal was surprisingly warm. Almost warmer than Vincent’s skin. “Please.”

“If you truly wish to see them--”

Before he could finish, they both heard the water turn off in the bathroom. They moved apart; Cloud returned to the bed, and Vincent went into the small kitchen area. Neither of them spoke again.

Cloud closed his eyes, soothed by Vincent’s quiet presence and the warmth of the cabin, the crackle of the fire. Cloud heard the bathroom door open and even though he knew who it was, he couldn’t quite manage to make himself wake up. He heard Vincent and Sephiroth speak, talking about clothes, and Vincent relayed the information that he’d told Cloud about wintering in the cabin.

Then Cloud heard the shower turn on once more, and realized he was alone with Sephiroth. But if Sephiroth wanted to hurt him, he’d had plenty of chances. And spending the next two months in close quarters was going to be impossible if Cloud couldn’t sleep. They’d kill each other for sure – if Vincent didn’t do it first.

When Cloud finally opened his eyes and sat up, blinking, it was to see Sephiroth sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back to the fire, combing out his hair. Since his bangs weren’t dry, Cloud had an unrestricted view of Sephiroth’s profile.

He looked so much like Vincent, it made Cloud’s heart clench.

Sephiroth was dressed in black sweat pants and a simple black t-shirt. It was short-sleeved, and the skin of his arms looked ghost-like in the dim light. His fingers, sans gloves, were elegant and long – again, like Vincent’s – and he was pulling the comb slowly through his long hair. He was doing it in sections, and the part he hadn’t gotten to yet was gathered at the top of his head in a bun.

Cloud had never seen Sephiroth in civilian clothes before. The shirt fit him but was tight enough to be almost pornographic, pulling against his muscles as he lifted his arm to drag the comb through the tangles. Tangles – Sephiroth’s hair had _tangles._

As Cloud watched, Sephiroth put the comb between his teeth and reached up to undo the bun on the top of his head. He separated out a section of damp silver hair, then re-twisted the rest up into bun.

“Enjoying the show?”

Cloud wasn’t surprised he’d been caught staring. He didn’t feel particularly bad about it, either. “I’ve never seen you look so human.”

Sephiroth didn’t even turn to look at him as he continued combing. “I didn’t think I was. ShinRa certainly didn’t want anyone thinking of me that way.”

Cloud pushed up on his elbows. The shower was off, but the bathroom door was still closed and the exhaust fan was still running.

“You think that now, though, don’t you?”

“Obviously. I can’t ignore how similar Valentine and I are, physically.” Sephiroth stopped combing, staring into the fire. “Her voice is gone. And while I am aware I acted irrationally under her influence, I can’t deny so much of what I’ve done is simply because I was angry.” His mouth twisted. “Perhaps she fed off it, but it was _my_ anger and that’s very much a human emotion.”

Cloud didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never expected to have this kind of conversation with his arch-nemesis. “I don’t want your confession.” He said it flatly, because he didn’t. He could not forgive Sephiroth. Not in this lifetime.

The wind outside sounded like a sigh.

“I’m not giving you a confession, Cloud. You asked a question, and I answered.”

Despite everything, Cloud felt his mouth quirk up. “A _no_ would have sufficed. You always did have that whole problem with monologuing.”

Sephiroth didn’t look at him, but Cloud could see his mouth tighten. His fingers pulled harder on the comb as he continued to untangle his damp hair. “You never had that problem.”

“Nope.” Cloud yawned. Watching Sephiroth comb his hair was making him sleepy. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood up, walking over so he could look Sephiroth full on rather than from the side.

Sephiroth glanced up at him.

“Gods.” Cloud shook his head. “You look so much like him.” That was part of the reason why he was staring, but not all. “Stand up.”

Oddly, Sephiroth didn’t argue or snark at him; he simply got to his feet. He went from sitting to standing so quickly it should have been impossible, graceful in a way that was almost painful to watch. It made Cloud, who was nearly half a foot shorter and not exactly a klutz, feel like a lumbering ox.

Cloud took a step closer, as did Sephiroth, as if the two of them couldn’t help it. Sephiroth’s hair was a darker silver when it was wet, drying lighter, almost white. His skin was smooth and perfect, his eyes wary as the slit pupils tracked Cloud’s movements. Cloud noticed that Sephiroth’s feet were still bare.

“Don’t you want socks?” It was a stupid thing to say.

“My temperature runs warmer than most humans, and it’s plenty warm in here.” He shrugged, crossed his arms over his chest. It made the t-shirt strain over his biceps, the muscles in his chest.

The sweatpants were a bit too short, and the shirt pulled up just enough to show a sliver of pale skin above the waistband.

“What _is_ it, Strife?”

“I’ve never seen you look like this.” Cloud realized how close they were standing, but didn’t move back. If nothing else, finding Sephiroth in the Northern Crater was proof enough that fighting the pull between them was pointless. They were like each other’s true north. “It’s like. I see you in my dreams, sometimes. You’re always in that coat. I guess I just assumed you slept in it.”

Sephiroth’s face was cold, impassive. “I have before. It was a well-made coat.”

Cloud glanced down at Sephiroth’s fingers, curled around the comb. He had the strangest urge to take it and comb Sephiroth’s hair, but … no. This was stupid. He was in sweat pants and a t-shirt with his hair in a bun, barefoot – and he was still Sephiroth. True north or not, Cloud had plenty of reasons to hate him.

 _Nibelheim. Zack. My mother. Aerith._  

“I can see it in your eyes that you’re trying to decide if you should hate me or not,” Sephiroth said, in a quiet voice. He smiled, and it was entirely full of malice. “The only reason you’re even trying _not_ to is Valentine, isn’t it?”

Cloud tilted his chin. He was not afraid of Sephiroth’s cold smiles. He’d been on the receiving end of enough of them. “I don’t like to hate anybody.” That much was true. “But you make it really easy.”

Sephiroth laughed. It wasn’t even a crazy or evil laugh – it was an actual laugh, even though his face looked unfriendly and his eyes were narrowed. “I’ve heard that before.” He turned away, sat down, and went back to his hair like Cloud hadn’t spoken.

Cloud turned and saw Vincent standing there, watching them. His hair was wet, too, but he’d left it down. He was dressed in black pants and a black sweater. The sweater had holes in it – no doubt he wore the t-shirt under it, the one he’d given Sephiroth.

All Vincent said was, “I’ll see if there’s tea,” and Sephiroth went back to combing his hair.

***

For dinner, they had actual food – from cans, but it was better than an MRE.

Even better than that was the tea, which was hot and plentiful. Now that he was clean, warmly dressed and with a full belly, Cloud knew his body was going to demand that he sleep regardless of Sephiroth’s presence.

Of course, the problem with the cabin was that it was set up for two people, not three.

“I will leave the bed for the two of you,” Vincent said, as they prepared for bed. “Since I do not require sleep.”

Cloud was so tired he was swaying on his feet, but he pointed at Sephiroth and said bluntly, “I’m sleeping in a room with him. Not in the same bed.”

“We can switch out.” Sephiroth’s hair was finally dry, braided, though his bangs were once again framing his face. “You can have the bed one night, I’ll take it the next. Valentine, you might not need sleep but is it beneficial to you?”

Vincent paused. “It can be.”

Sephiroth waited, but when Vincent said nothing else he simply shrugged. “Perhaps you should attempt it, then.”

“All right.” Vincent climbed in the bed, sliding next to Cloud under the covers. Cloud had a feeling he was doing this more to be a buffer between Cloud and Sephiroth than anything. He also couldn’t say he didn’t appreciate it.  

Even with Sephiroth in the room, it only took Cloud moments to fall asleep.

He didn’t dream.

***

Cloud woke up, disoriented and confused at what had pulled him out of sleep. His brain recalled all the important details ( _Sephiroth, alive, across the room in a chair_ , _my sword, next to the bed_ ) but before he could even reach for it, he realized that what had awoken him was…Vincent.

Except it wasn’t _just_ Vincent.

Vincent always slept on his back, which was likely a holdover from his years sleeping in a box. But he wasn’t on his back, right now. He was sitting up in bed, staring at Cloud and smiling.

His inhuman claw was the thing that had woken Cloud from his sleep. It was stroking him, but not his mouth this time. Lower.

Much lower.

“Vincent,” Cloud murmured, though that wasn’t right, was it? It was Vincent’s face, it was Vincent’s smile, but he eyes that peered through the fall of Vincent’s dark messy hair were bright yellow, not red. “Uh. Chaos?”

“When he sleeps, it is easier.” Vincent’s voice was half-his, half…something else. Ageless, clarion. “He dreams of such worthless men. He languishes in a purgatory of useless guilt. I would have him stop.”

The claw teased the tip of Cloud’s cock through his sweatpants. “I thought you were resting.”

“I am. When his mind slumbers, I borrow the mouth that speaks.” It sounded oddly formal, nothing like how Vincent would talk. The claw stroked Cloud again. “Little one. You who are the Planet’s Champion. He wants you.”

“I, ah.” Cloud was whispering, feeling foolish, since the demon’s deep resonant voice was not at all quiet. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

The demon’s laugh was stilted and monotone, as if, without Vincent’s consciousness, he didn’t know quite how to do it. “I can bring you the pleasure.”

Oh, Gods, what? “I – could I just – wait for Vincent, maybe?” Cloud’s face was on fire. He knew Sephiroth was awake, he just _knew_ it.

Vincent cocked his head. Nothing about the way he moved was human, but other than the glowing amber eyes, he didn’t look any different. It was disconcerting. The talon was strangely gentle, though. As if maybe Chaos knew how to stroke a human cock with a claw and not tear anything, and that was…not an image Cloud wanted to think about right now.  

“You grow hard,” the demon announced. “The host will soon come forth and force me back. If I stroke you harder, will it make you come?” Its words became more and more staccato, like listening to a strangely resonant robot speaking. “I would find that. Interesting.”

Cloud closed his eyes. Thinking about a demon using Vincent’s claw to stroke him off in front of Sephiroth should be making him the _opposite_ of hard. And yet.

The strange stilted laughter came again. “You resist your desires as he does. As his son does. How strange. Why have them if you do not indulge.” The claw went lax around him, and the eyes began to fade back to red. “We shall meet again. little one….”

Vincent’s chin dropped and his eyes slid closed. Cloud reached down and gently moved the claw away from his cock.

Vincent woke up seconds later, blinking confused red eyes at him. “Cloud?”

“You, uh. Were dreaming.”

Vincent looked around, pulled his claw hand from under the covers. “I … my apologies, I was…”

“It wasn’t you.” Sephiroth’s voice, because it was too much to ask that he’d somehow slept through that. “It was your demon.”

Cloud shot him a look in the dark. He could just make out the fall of Sephiroth’s silver hair, the gleam of his jade eyes.

“Chaos? What did it want?” Vincent had retreated, pulled into himself. He ducked his head, hiding behind his hair.

“To give Cloud a handjob, I’m assuming.”

Cloud made a sound. “Tch! Sephiroth, you’re not helping.”

“What?” Sephiroth’s voice was sly. “Did you think I hadn’t noticed there was something between the two of you?”

“Actually, yeah,” said Cloud. He closed his eyes. “Vincent, it’s fine. I think Chaos is worried about you. He said something about you, uh.” Shiva. How did he make the demon’s words sound less awful?

“Languishing in the purgatory of useless guilt,” Sephiroth said, who apparently didn’t have the same drive to preserve Vincent’s sensibilities. “And dreaming of worthless men.”

“I should – I will remove myself outside so that you may sleep unmolested,” said Vincent. He sounded miserable.

“He liked it,” Sephiroth said in a low voice. “The demon said he was hard.”

“Seriously. Shut up,” Cloud growled at Sephiroth, reaching carefully for Vincent. “Hey. No, it’s fine. I – it’s fine, I promise. Everything’s okay.”

Vincent exhaled. “I’m – this is why I took myself away, why I don’t…I’m not fit to be around humans. Only a monster does that to someone in their sleep, you don’t deserve that.”

“Well.” Cloud cleared his throat. “I mean. Chaos knows we…can you just…can we go back to sleep?”

Vincent laughed dully. It made Cloud’s heart ache to hear it. “I don’t trust myself. He can’t usually come forth without my permission, this is one reason I don’t sleep.”

“Then don’t sleep,” Cloud said, wildly, reaching out and curling a hand on Vincent’s upper arm. “But don’t go. Please.”

Vincent stared down at him. He looked destroyed, as if he’d violated Cloud’s trust in the worst of ways. Cloud pulled him down, uncaring that Sephiroth was watching, and murmured in his ear, “I liked what he was doing. But I want it when it’s _you_. So you can see that I like it. Okay?”

“Should I leave you two alone?”

Sephiroth again, and Cloud couldn’t tell what it was he heard in Sephiroth’s voice. Something unkind, almost…jealousy? But that couldn’t be right, could it?

_You resist your desires as he does. As his son does._

What did that mean?

“Well?”

Sephiroth, again. Cloud almost said yes, but then he realized – it didn’t matter if he wanted Sephiroth to leave them alone or not.

There was nowhere to go.

 

 

 

 


	10. Interlude: The Forgotten City, Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I cannot – your life grows nearer to its end, little flower. Take your last moments and leave me be.” 
> 
> He turned away from her, striding down the altar steps, his hands clenched in fists. 
> 
> ___  
> A memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas or happy Monday -- here's a brief little interlude that is, obviously, a flashback.

Chapter 10

_The Forgotten Capital_

That the girl had come to him was a surprise.

Mother said it was to be expected, it was a sign that all was coming to fruition as it had been foretold. He was the rightful heir of this planet. All should do as he said.

The girl tried, in her shy voice, to convince him of the Planet’s wishes. Tried to talk about the Promised Land, how it was found within and not without.

Her voice was a strange thing. It was soft and kind, but it _irritated_ him, broke like glass against his skin, left the sort of scratches that burned but didn’t bleed.

His mother’s voice was too loud to hear anything else, especially this Cetra girl with her wide green eyes and her sad, sad smile.

“Don’t you _remember_?” she asked him, so sad.

**_she has been tainted by humans don’t give her words any meaning, my son, she is anathema to us_ **

**_anathema traitor tainted don’t listen don’t listen only my voice only mine traitor anathema_ **

The girl spent the night before the sacrifice in the fields, singing to herself, making chains out of flowers. He did not know what she did with them, and he did not ask.

***

“He won’t do it.”

Sephiroth glanced at her; she had been quiet, up until now, when he’d brought her to the place where Mother wanted it to be done.

“What?” Sephiroth stared at her. Beneath the soft murmur of his Mother’s pleased voice was a tickle of a memory, and it had been bothering him. The way she smiled at him, this girl, it was familiar. How could that be? She was a tool to bring about Mother’s triumph, that was all. What was she to him?

_Do you want to play with me?_

The memory was there, on the tip of his brain, like a word forgotten poised on the edge of his tongue.

**_no no she must die give her to me send me the soul it must be son my son you are my child you will avenge me rise rise rise the sky the sky_ **

It was hard to think with Mother there, so loud, drowning what came before and after, she was everything, she was all he could hear.

“He won’t do it. You want to make him, and I want to believe that it’s because you remember but I think it’s just that you are cruel, and you want him to suffer.” She walked beside him like a companion.

An insect, this girl, a buzzing, her words, just a scratch, a little scratch.

**_they were cruel look what they have done taken from Me you will return what is Mine you are MY son My son My son_ **

She looked up at him, as if it were he who was to be sacrificed. “Her poison is too strong.”

“Stop looking at me as if I am to be pitied, girl,” Sephiroth said brusquely. “You would do better to make your peace with death.”

“I know.” She smiled at him, and there it was, again, that flicker of something, a candle flame in a dark room, the light glinting off stainless steel, a little prick, just a little prick, it’s only a needle –

**_My son My son My son My son My –_ **

“It will have to be you,” she said, and somehow that sweet, quiet voice cut through Mother’s, which had become a shriek, so loud, over and over, some painful litany, his only lullaby. “The infection is not deep enough, with Cloud. He still remembers, but you do not.”

She did not fight him as he pulled her to the altar, only hurried to keep up, as if his strides were too long.

She was crying, this girl, this nothing, this sacrifice, this flower, this _I’m not a SOLDIER, I’m a little --_

**_MY_ SON _MY SON MY SON MY SON MY SON_**

“I wish you could fight her,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. Somehow he was kneeling and she was in front of him, her soft hands clutching his, when had they started holding hands? “But you can’t. You can’t, and you don’t _want_ to, and that’s – oh, Sephiroth, I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“But, child – it will be so much better,” he said, and yet somehow the words tasted like ash in his mouth, empty, like they weren’t really words he believed, like they were a lie, and he was so tired of lies and yet they were falling like rain from his mouth and _why did he think they were lies_

**_MY SON I DO NOT LIE THEY LIE I AM TRUTH MY SON MY SON MY SON_ **

She knelt prettily, her hands folded. Her eyes were open, fixed on his. “He won’t do it, Sephiroth,” she said, again. “It has to be you.”

“Do you think, little flower, that I won’t?” He took her chin in his hand, a light grip. “I will.”

“I know you will.” Tears fell down her face and he knew that it was not the first time he had seen her cry, but it would be the last. “I’m afraid,” she whispered. She sounded ashamed. “I know it is what I must do, but…I’m afraid.”

“Do not worry, little flower. My aim is true, and my blade is sharp.” Her eyes – why did they look so familiar, why –

**_MYSONMYSONMYSONMYMYMYMYMYMYMYMYMY_ **

“It will only hurt for a second,” he said, and she said it with him, and why – what was it –

“Oh, I wish you could fight her. But I know – you can’t.” She took his hand in hers, and stared, unafraid, into his eyes. “One day she will be gone. And you’ll know because –” a sob, as if she couldn’t help herself, and Jenova’s voice shrieking **_THEY ARE COMING_** in his brain, a warning siren, louder and louder.

“You’ll know because then you’ll remember. That we were children together. That one time you held my hand when I was afraid, and told me it would only hurt for a second. And when – when you do remember – please, Sephiroth – please know I forgive you. I forgive you.”

She pressed her mouth to his forehead, and he jolted; it felt like cool water on feverish skin, a touch he’d never known before, the missing part inside of him that had been empty and was filled now with rot.

**_no no no no not her traitor anathema no liar she lies LIES_ **

“I cannot – your life grows nearer to its end, little flower. Take your last moments and leave me be.”

He turned away from her, striding down the altar steps, his hands clenched in fists.

“Goodbye, Sephiroth,” she called, voice tear-choked.

Sephiroth did not turn around. But he said, softly,  “Goodbye, Aerith,” and surely it was too soft for her to hear. 

But she heard.

***

The puppet failed, his sword faltered. 

Sephiroth made it quick, and clean, and she died with a smile on her face.

He'd already forgotten her name. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It was ridiculous to be upset over fantasizing about Cloud – it made sense he would want the only person who’d ever bested him in combat. Fighting was all he knew, and Cloud’s antagonism burned through Sephiroth like the whiskey that would never get him drunk._

 

Chapter 11

It was amazing how fast you could go through firewood.

One more thing they’d taken for granted with mako, apparently, because even though the cabin was small, it still took quite a bit of firewood to heat it. All of them had mastered fire materia, but that didn’t help if there wasn’t anything to burn.

Cloud and Sephiroth mostly took care of the firewood, and had fallen into a rotating schedule after the first few days of who would be responsible for adding to the pile. Given how much snow there was, the wood needed time to dry after it was chopped before they could burn it without filling the entire cabin with smoke. Since they were both swordsmen, it made more sense than Vincent shooting a gun at a tree and felling it (though he had a few that probably could).

Besides, it was a small cabin and they were, the three of them, introverts at heart. Vincent did the hunting even though he didn’t eat, and Cloud and Sephiroth took care of the wood alone even though they’d probably get more accomplished if they worked together.

Theoretically.

Sephiroth knew that Cloud would be annoyed when he went out to chop wood even though it was technically Cloud’s turn. Cloud was always annoyed at him. In fact, _annoyed_ was Cloud on a good day. Suspicious, outright hateful….

 _Can you blame him_?

That was the thing that was sending Sephiroth outside into the snow, seeking solitude. Something that Cloud hated him for…and rightly so.

Aerith.

What had infuriated him wasn’t so much that he’d had any particular feelings for the girl; it was a long-ago memory, and he’d been little more than a child when they knew each other. It wasn’t that he’d killed her, or even that he’d done it in front of Cloud Strife.

It was that he’d forgotten about her, about their shared childhood, _because Jenova made him forget._

The knowledge of just how much of a puppet he’d really been for Jenova made him furious. And that Aerith had known all along was untenable.

_One day you’ll remember me. When she’s gone._

He couldn’t stand it. That his mental faculties had been so easily swayed, that his desire for a mother, to know his origins, had been so strong that he’d let some alien _control_ him….

Cloud was pulling on his coat to go outside when Sephiroth snarled at him, “I’ll do it,” and stormed outside, feeling the familiar and comforting weight of masamune appear in his left hand. He wasn’t dressed in anything all that appropriate for the weather, in just his trousers and boots and a thermal long-sleeved shirt of Vincent’s, but he didn’t much care.

Masamune was the sharpest blade on the planet, and the tree he selected was no match for it with the full weight of Sephiroth’s fury behind his swing. He stepped back, his breath fogging the air as the tree gave a loud creak and fell with a crash.

It made him think for a moment of Aerith, how she’d fallen under his blade.

Something tickled at the back of his awareness. He wasn’t alone. “I don’t recall asking for company.”

“I don’t recall it being your turn,” said Cloud. “Figured I’d better get out here or there wouldn’t be anything left. Things aren’t usually standing for long, when you’re in a bad mood.”

“Very funny,” Sephiroth bit out. He was still staring at the tree.

“Who said I was joking?”

Snarling, Sephiroth slashed at the tree with his sword. He did it over and over again, until a good portion of it was reduced to little more than splinters at his feet. He was not in the mood for Cloud, or his clever commentary, or his hatred, or his righteous anger.

“Don’t think splinters are very good for a fire,” said Cloud.

Sephiroth resisted the urge to turn his blade on Strife with effort. Part of him wondered why he didn’t. Vincent would hate him, but Vincent had already fought against Sephiroth once, had taken Strife’s side over his even while knowing he was his son –

_You weren’t. You were Jenova’s son._

“Something is bothering you.”

Sephiroth shot Cloud a glare that was so hot, he was surprised Strife’s stupid fluffy hair didn’t catch on fire. He’d never needed materia to cast spells, which Strife knew better than anyone. But as usual, Strife didn’t seem afraid of him as much as he did… _exhausted_ by him.

That was somehow comforting; though the fact did little to mitigate his rage. If anything, it just made Sephiroth angrier. He shouldn’t take any sort of comfort in Cloud Strife’s presence or thinly-veiled contempt. And yet.

“Vincent isn’t here,” Sephiroth said. “You don’t need to pretend to care.”

“It’s strange.” Cloud’s voice was calm as he moved a little ways down the trunk of the felled tree to start hacking at it with his ridiculously large broadsword. “You and me, we have this connection. I hate it, and I don’t want it and never have, but. It’s there.”

Cloud glanced up at him. His face was flushed from exertion, his blue eyes bright. His clothes were warm but form-fitting enough to show off his lean strength – he reminded Sephiroth a bit of Genesis in his build, though Cloud was several inches shorter.

“You wanted to be a SOLDIER,” Sephiroth said, ignoring his mention of a connection. Sephiroth also noticed, and he didn’t like it, either. “What was it that kept you from the program?”

“Dunno.” Cloud swung again, the branches breaking easily beneath his sword. “They didn’t say. I’ve been this height since I was fifteen. I always figured it was that.”

The way he moved, with such inherent grace, didn’t seem to be the result of mako-enhancements. But Sephiroth wasn’t necessarily in the mood to give his nemesis a compliment. He couldn’t honestly remember if there’d been SOLDIERs of a similar height – Sephiroth hadn’t been aware of anyone who wasn’t Angeal, Genesis, or Zack.

Zack, who had chosen Cloud for that mission to Nibelheim and inadvertently put them into each other’s path. Zack, who’d loved the girl Sephiroth had cut down out of madness and some alien creature’s desire for vengeance.

“When I was – in the Forgotten City,” Sephiroth said, and he didn’t look at Cloud but he knew he had Cloud’s attention (didn’t he always?), could tell from the lack of sound that Cloud was focused entirely on him. “She told me that you wouldn’t be able to kill her. That Jenova didn’t have as deep a hold on you as she – it – did on me.”

Cloud didn’t speak. Sephiroth continued. “Aerith and I grew up together. In Hojo’s labs. I don’t know if you knew that.”

“I – I knew she’d escaped from there with Elmyra,” said Cloud.

“Yes. Shortly after the war in Wutai ended, I recall.” Hojo had been angry, Sephiroth remembered that. He’d had some hairbrained idea to breed Ancients. Sephiroth thought it might have involved him, too. “In the Forgotten City, when I took her life. She tried to remind me of that, of a – a moment when I had been with her, when she’d needed a shot. An antibiotic, just a simple thing. But she hated needles.”

“I don’t know that I can hear this,” Cloud said, his voice tight. Sephiroth heard the sing of his blade as it arced through the air, perilously close to his head.

“I forgot her. Aerith. I forgot her name, I forgot that moment, I forgot that she used to want me to tell her bedtime stories. I forgot that I’m the one who taught her how to braid her hair.”

Cloud made a sound of inarticulate rage, hacking at the wood, all his former grace vanished.

“She told me that’s how I would know that Jenova was gone. That I’d remember her.” Sephiroth stared up at the sky. It was starting to snow again. “She was right.”

He could hear Cloud breathing, harsh like he’d been running when Sephiroth knew it was simply from anger. “Why.”

 _Why are you telling me this_ , that’s what he meant.

“I don’t know. I remembered her, when I awoke in the cavern where you found me. Last night I dreamed of killing her, and I remembered what she said to me.”

“We know Jenova is gone,” Cloud bit out. He’d moved so he was in Sephiroth’s field of vision, now, his sky-blue eyes angry like a storm. He was well-named, Sephiroth thought, but did not say. “Try again. Are you sorry you tried to make me kill her, because I don’t think you are.”

He wasn’t, but that could be because Cloud Strife brought out the worst in him, that inner darkness that made him susceptible to an alien’s manipulation disguised as love.

“I didn’t think so.” Cloud hacked at the tree some more. “You know what I think it is, the reason you’re so angry?”

Sephiroth turned his head slightly and waited.

“You called me a puppet, when all along, that’s all you were. That’s all you’ve ever been, isn’t it?” Cloud stepped back, gave a brief nod. He turned a smile on Sephiroth, tipped and edged with smug satisfaction. “I feel better now. You can finish up.”

Sephiroth didn’t watch him go.

***

The tree was large enough to provide plenty of wood, so it took him a long time to get it all chopped and moved to the shed, where it could be covered and left to dry. Sephiroth made sure the tarp was connected securely and then went back inside; it had started snowing harder, several inches having fallen already. Much more and it might barricade them in.

That was an unpleasant thought, though likely implausible for the three of them given their various levels of strength. Sephiroth was nearly certain that Cloud would rather sleep under the tarp with the wood than in a location with him that he couldn’t escape.

He ignored Cloud when he went back inside. Something was cooking on the pot – probably vegetables and whatever else Vincent had managed to throw together – and he went to the bathroom to shower. He was cold, and wet from the snow, and so intent on getting beneath the warm water that he forgot he’d need fresh clothes.

Sighing, he wrung out the mass of his hair and piled on top of his head, leaving the shower on as he left the bathroom…and promptly caught Vincent and Cloud enjoying a moment of perceived privacy.

The two of them were discreet about whatever it was they were to each other – other than the night they’d woken up with Chaos trying to give a sleeping Cloud a handjob, Sephiroth hadn’t seen them so much as brush hands. But they had time enough, he supposed; when he was out chopping wood, or the time Cloud had accompanied Vincent hunting and returned without anything to eat but with Cloud in the least combative mood Sephiroth had ever experienced.

Cloud was leaning against the wall of the kitchen, Vincent crowding him against it. Vincent had finally stopped keeping himself swathed in red all the time, which Sephiroth was pleased about since he liked to look at Vincent more than he probably should. Vincent had his human hand up on the wall by Cloud’s head, and his claw –

\-- he had his claw in Cloud’s mouth.

Lust hit him straight in the gut. Sephiroth didn’t know what to do or how to process that; the last thing he should be feeling was _envy_ , and yet…

Cloud saw him first – of course he did – and ducked his head, gently touching Vincent’s shoulder. Vincent turned and saw him there, dropped his hand and his claw, and moved away.

Sephiroth sighed, exasperated and unsettled. “I am aware the two of you are…involved. I simply needed some clothing.”

“It’s fine,” Cloud said. He wouldn’t meet Sephiroth’s eyes.

Vincent ducked his head, hiding behind his hair. “We didn’t to make you uncomfortable.”

Sephiroth ignored them both, and went to collect his dry clothing. He returned to the bathroom, stripped, and got into the shower. Perhaps he closed the door behind him with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

His cock was hard. Sephiroth thought about what it had looked like, Vincent’s claw in Cloud’s mouth. Cloud had been – licking the talons. Sucking on them. His blue eyes had been drowsy, warm in a way they never were when he looked at Sephiroth.

Sephiroth realized with a start that he was attracted to Cloud. It seemed ridiculous, considering all that lay between them. But perhaps not; his attraction to Genesis, the core of it, had always been based somewhat on their rivalry, hadn’t it?

_That, and he wasn’t afraid of you. He never cared overmuch for being respectful. Maybe that’s your type._

That and Angeal – stalwart Angeal, loyal and brave, who felt things quietly but intensely, able to step between the two of them when necessary.

Sephiroth put his hands on the slick surface of the shower, ducking his head. He took a few deep breaths, letting the hot water warm his chilled skin. But one part of him was not cold, and it was only heating up more as the images played out in his mind.

Sex had never been an easy thing for him. The first time he’d woken up with sticky sheets, confused and embarrassed, he’d been treated to a clinical lecture from Hojo about nocturnal emissions. Hojo hadn’t asked him any questions about the specifics, and Sephiroth hadn’t provided any. The dream was long forgotten but Sephiroth was sure it must have involved a man; probably fighting. At that time he hadn’t had any idea what sex was, had barely understood his attraction to Genesis when Genesis was fed up and finally made a move.

Apparently he was still turned on by combativeness…and multiple partners. Sephiroth almost laughed. He ignored the erection that wasn’t fading and found the soap. He tried running through battle tactics and sword kata as he cleaned himself, but it didn’t seem to help. He kept thinking about Cloud and Vincent, what they were doing. If they were getting each other off, fast and frantic, against the wall – hands shoved down hastily-unbuttoned pants. Sounds caught against their mouths….

Sephiroth banged his head lightly against the shower and took himself in hand. It was ridiculous to be upset over fantasizing about Cloud – it made sense he would want the only person who’d ever bested him in combat. Fighting was all he knew, and Cloud’s antagonism burned through Sephiroth like the whiskey that would never get him drunk.

What wasn’t was easy to accept was Vincent’s appearance in the fantasy. The idea of him there, watching with those bright red eyes…or holding Cloud down for Sephiroth to fuck him, forcing Cloud’s head back so Sephiroth could fuck his throat. Then it was Sephiroth watching as Vincent was pleasured by Cloud, or perhaps…Vincent pleasuring Cloud, it would be nice to see that self-possession of Strife’s fall by the wayside and he doubted Cloud would be so vulnerable in front of him.

The fantasy didn’t take long until it was a confused jumble of fighting and fucking, Sephiroth pinning Cloud down with his teeth in the back of Cloud’s neck, fucking him until Cloud begged for release, Vincent taking Cloud in his mouth, Sephiroth’s fingers in Vincent’s hair, pulling him back and kissing him, Vincent’s hands on him, everywhere, all over –

When Sephiroth came he wasn’t sure of the configuration but it was probably wrong, was certainly wrong, but for once he was going to revel in being a villain, even if it were only in private.

***

When Sephiroth emerged from the shower, Vincent had gone hunting and Cloud was cleaning his sword.

Sephiroth watched him, thinking about his fantasy in the shower as Cloud’s fingers moved with practiced precision over the hilt.

“What?”

“I’m attracted to you.”

Cloud dropped the sword. Only on the table, but still. He blinked up at Sephiroth. “ _What_?”

“I said, I’m attracted to you.”

Cloud laughed. It was a harsh sound. “Of course you are.” He went back to cleaning his sword.

Sephiroth crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re not surprised.”

“I mean. I’ve beaten you three times. It seems like you’d be into that.” Cloud was trying to play this off as nonchalance but it wasn’t entirely working. Still. Sephiroth would let him have his delusions, if it helped. That connection of theirs ran both ways.

“No protestations about how you’ll kill me if I try and touch you?”

“You don’t need to hear them when I’ve already done it,” Cloud said.

“Yes, but Cloud,” Sephiroth purred, leaning forward with his hands on the table. “I was trying to kill you. Not fuck you.”

Cloud went tense, staring so hard at the wood of the table it was like he was trying to see through it to the ground below. “Doesn’t matter. Not interested.”

“I’m not stupid,” Sephiroth said, very softly. He liked the way he could still make Cloud nervous when he stared at him; perhaps that was wrong of him, but he didn’t much care. “I’ve seen you look at me.”

“You’re six-foot-three and have silver hair down to your ass,” Cloud retorted, as ever refusing to be cowed. Perhaps Sephiroth really _did_ have a type. “It’s hard to miss you.”

“That’s not what I meant, but please, continue to play dumb if you like.” That _meanness_ that Cloud was so adept at bringing forth flared up. “I know you have problems accepting the truth of who you are, I’m sure this is no different.”

That hit its mark. Cloud stood up, all spiky hair and bristled pride. He frowned. “I’m not dead, and you’re beautiful. Even if you weren’t – you know, you – you’re Vincent’s son. And by the way… if you hurt him? I will find a way to kill you so that you stay dead.”

The threat was delivered flatly, no bravado or anything but a tired, weary sort of resignation.

“Why would I hurt Vincent?” Granted, Sephiroth wasn’t sure why he’d decided to tell Cloud he was attracted to him, but it had nothing to do with his father.

“You once told me you’d like to take away everything I cherish.”

Sephiroth didn’t recall ever saying that, which meant it must have been said during their last battle; that one, Sephiroth had little to no memory of. Cloud did seem to bring out the worst in him, though, and it seemed like something he’d say.

“I have no intention of hurting Vincent,” Sephiroth assured him. “Nor do I intend to force you to do anything. As arousing as the thought may be.” He did not miss the flash in Strife’s eyes when he said that, and it made him smile, slow and mocking. “Or as much as you might want me to.”

“Fuck you,” Cloud snarled, taking a step closer. “You think because I – because we have this…Gods-damned connection, that I want you to force yourself on me? Because I don’t.” His smile was more a baring of teeth. “I don’t want you breathing, much less touching me…you’re a fucking _murderer_.”

“And Vincent isn’t?”

“Vincent is a better man that you will ever know, or will ever be,” Cloud snapped.

“Thank you, Cloud, but he is right. I _am_ a murderer.”

They both turned to see Vincent in the doorway, shrouded in his red cape, snow dusting the midnight darkness of his hair.

“It’s not the same and you know it,” Cloud growled, still glaring at Sephiroth. He was tense, poised for battle, and Sephiroth let his eyes run over him in admiration, resisting the urge to laugh when Cloud noticed and got even angrier in response.

“I killed a deer. It needs to be dressed. I thought perhaps one of you would do it easier than I, given my weaponry all involves bullets.”

“Sephiroth seems like he’s dying to make something bleed, ask him to do it.” Cloud sounded like a cranky teenager, which Sephiroth found gratifying.

“I just took a shower,” Sephiroth said, holding his hands up. He smiled at his infuriated nemesis as if he’d just won some kind of battle. “You go ahead, Cloud. You look as if you might benefit from skinning something. Go ahead and imagine it’s me, if you like.”

Cloud muttered under his breath and pushed by him, sword gripped tight in his hands as he stomped toward the door.

Vincent watched him go, then began to strip his garments. “I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Earlier, with Cloud.” Evidently he thought their argument came from Sephiroth catching their brief moment of intimacy, rather than just the normal antagonism that seemed to thrive between Sephiroth and Cloud.  

Sephiroth waved a hand, glancing away from Vincent’s knowing red eyes. He felt oddly chastised, and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “It is not my business.”

“And yet it bothers you,” Vincent said, softly. “Is it because we are both men, or because Cloud is…Cloud?”

“Well. It isn’t the first. I myself am inclined toward men, and while I can’t say it’s exclusive – I had one experience with a woman and it was…pleasant enough, I suppose…it seems to be my preference. As for Cloud, one can only assume his personality is better when he’s dealing with someone he doesn’t hate.”

Vincent smiled a bit. “He’s…like me, for the most part. Wary around others. Quiet. Inclined toward solitude. But loyal, and brave. He would have to be. You make a formidable enemy, Sephiroth. I know this from experience.”

“I won’t harm you,” Sephiroth said, something hot and uncomfortable tangling behind his chest at the idea that the two of them, Sephiroth and Vincent, would be enemies. “I give you my word, for what it’s worth. Nor will I burn the world for you, since that has not worked out well for me in the past, but something tells me that’s not what you want.”

“No. Mostly I wanted nothing to do with the world.” Vincent studied him, then moved closer. “Perhaps it is time I told you my story. If you want to hear it.”

Sephiroth nodded. “I do. But I won’t hate you, so if that’s what you want, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.” He reached out as if he couldn’t help himself.

Vincent caught his hand in his own, before Sephiroth could touch him. His expression was not friendly. “You called me a murderer, son.”

The word made his breath catch. He curled his fingers around Vincent’s, his eyes locked on Vincent’s crimson gaze. “Because you are one. Do you think it bothers me?” He carried Vincent’s hand to his mouth, ran his lips across the knuckles. His body was caught in confusion between desire and some desperate affection, both strong enough that perhaps there really was no line between them. “I’m far worse.”

“You had little choice in becoming what you became.” Vincent hadn’t pulled his hand away.

“Your Cloud would not see things quite that way,” Sephiroth murmured, eyes half-closed as he dragged his mouth over the knuckles again, tongue flicking out, tasting sweat and skin and growing hard despite his earlier interlude in the shower.

“He isn’t mine,” Vincent said, softly. “And perhaps after he hears this story, he shall hate us both. What are you doing?”

Sephiroth paused, mouth pressed against Vincent’s knuckles. “Should I stop?”

Vincent’s eyes flashed. “Yes. You should.”

They stared at each other. It wasn’t just Sephiroth who felt whatever this was between them, wrong or right – though perhaps that didn’t make it better.

Perhaps it made it worse.

 

 

 

 


	12. chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sephiroth blinked. He reached out as a tear fell down Vincent’s cheek. “You’re crying. For me. Because of what I became?”_
> 
> _Vincent thought his heart long broken, but apparently that was a lie. Being dead did not stop the pain of hearing that, and pressed his forehead to Sephiroth’s, felt the tears fall on his son’s pale skin, like his own only because he was dead and Sephiroth infused with the cells of an alien, with mako, with all the things Hojo thought might have made him something other than what he was._
> 
> _“Because of what you should have been.” Vincent’s voice was destroyed. “A child.”_
> 
> In which Vincent shares his story, and he and Sephiroth share something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First: Yet another content advisory that this story does contain consensual incest. 
> 
> Second: My created backstory for Vincent, Hojo and Lucrecia might not gel with the story as we get it in _Dirge of Cerebus_ but I have a lot of issues with that backstory (it's nonsensical, as far as the timeline, so I'm just choosing to ignore it). As I'm usually a canon!whore who likes to make things make sense, this drives me nuts but the character motivations in that version are weak and also ultimately mystifying as far as *when* certain things happen, so. Behold my reconstruction. 
> 
> Third: I know this is the slowest burn ever, thanks for hanging in there -- I swear things catch fire here v. soon ;)

Chapter 12

Vincent hated to be the center of attention, but this was his story, and there was really no way to get out of it. He sat in front of the door since that was the coldest place in the cabin, as if trying to block the wind. The fire roared brightly, and Cloud sat in front of it, taking his swords apart and putting them back together, over and over.

Sephiroth was curled like a cat in the chair, long hair braided and his knees drawn up, holding a mug of tea.

Vincent took a deep breath, and began. The sooner he said all of this, the sooner it would be over.

“As you know, I was an assassin for the Turks. My job was to kill quietly, silently, without anyone knowing I was there. I was very good at it, and excelling wasn’t something I was used to. My father was a scientist, and I never much cared for school or academics. If it weren’t for the Valentine eyes, I think I would have thought myself adopted. I was something of a disappointment to him, but the same was not true for Veld, the Director of the Turks.”

How did he talk about Veld? Vincent drew a deep breath. “Turks recruit young, same as SOLDIER would in later years. I immediately became…fixated, I suppose, on pleasing Veld. I wanted the attention and praise I’d never had from my own father, I suppose, and Veld figured that out in seconds. He knew exactly what to give – and withhold – to keep me in line.”

He’d also been the first person who took Vincent to bed, but Vincent didn’t necessarily think that was relevant. “I confused my relationship with Veld with something it was not,” he said, trying to talk around it, “And Veld was…he thought sending me to Nibelheim would help with that.”

“Wait, what?” Cloud’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

“It means he fucked Vincent, and Vincent thought it meant something it didn’t,” Sephiroth said, succinctly.

Cloud turned a sharp glare on him, mouth opening as if to protest.

“No, that’s exactly it,” Vincent said, before Cloud could say anything. “A Turk’s most valuable asset is their loyalty, and Veld knew exactly what to do in order to get mine.”

“It was clear that my attachment was becoming…unprofessional, inappropriate and, as he finally told me, one-sided. Oh, Veld cared about all his Turks, me included. Just not in the way I thought I wanted. He told me he was sending me to Nibelheim to put some distance between us, said that in a few months I would realize my puppy love was just the result of someone finally paying attention to me, telling me I was good at something. And he was right.

“I didn’t want to go but I was a good Turk, and I followed my orders. So I went to Nibelheim, and that’s where I met your mother,” he said, to Sephiroth. “I’d never met anyone like her, before. She was smart, and vibrant. So alive, in that mansion that was dusty and full of relics even then. She was friendly and welcoming, and she loved people.

“Hojo…I say he was a different man and he was, but he always arrogant, always driven. He had no patience for stupidity, or small-talk, or mindlessness. And he did love your mother, as much as I did. He respected her. They argued constantly, and I had no idea what they were talking about most of the time. I learned they were together one night after a particularly loud and vehement argument at the dinner table.”

Despite the unhappy history, Vincent smiled a bit at the memory. “They were not kind when they argued about work. She called him a ‘stodgy old curmudgeon’ even though he was, I think, in his early thirties at the time. He said she was a ‘flighty, impetuous fool obsessed with metaphysics.’ Never once did he use her gender as an insult, but that was about the only line he never crossed. I think she threw a teacup at him. When she left the room, I remember he laughed. And it wasn’t that laugh that I’m sure you remember, that cackle of his. It was an honest laugh. I think he waited until she couldn’t hear him.

She cried, of course. She had a tendency to do that when upset, or even happy, and she thought…well. She was a woman working in a field dominated by men, and would remove herself to cry in private because she thought emotion hampered her ability to think. I remember once Hojo said that was ‘hogwash’ and that emotions were natural responses to things and should be carefully considered and evaluated once their ‘initial intensity’ wore down.”

“That is not what he told me,” Sephiroth said, frowning. “He always insisted that emotions were useless distractions and were unnecessary for a SOLDIER.”

Given what happened, it wasn’t a surprise that Hojo would tell Sephiroth that. “Perhaps he thought he was helping you in some way avoid the pitfalls he himself fell into.”

“Or maybe he was just a dick,” said Cloud.

“As much as I hate agreeing with Strife on mere principle, I have to say he’s probably right.”

“That just killed you, huh,” Cloud said. “One more for my tally.” He held up four fingers and wiggled them.

Sephiroth calmly raised his mug of tea to take a sip -- and flipped Cloud off.

They were like bickering children. Vincent sighed. “At any rate, later that night I heard sounds coming from her room. I was concerned she was upset, or angry, and then the sounds changed and I was concerned she was being hurt. I drew my gun, kicked her door open and saw that I was mistaken. Very much so.”

_Hojo, kneeling behind her on the bed, one hand in Lucrecia’s long hair. Her face, flushed with pleasure, a wild grin on her face as he took her from behind._

_“Is this how you invite yourself into bed with someone, Turk?”_

_Lucrecia giggling, the sound following him as he hastily closed the door and retreated to his own room. How hard he’d been, just from that brief glimpse of them together…._

“Lucrecia found me the next day and apologized for their behavior at dinner, saying they tended to get quite worked up about science. That’s when she told me the next day they were engaged. I struggled to keep my distance from the both of them, especially because I didn’t much care for Hojo. He thought I was little more than a hired thug and – well, perhaps he was right. As I said, I was never much for intellectual pursuits.”

“But your mother, she…was captivating. Sincere, sweet, and so very, very determined when she wanted something. She pursued me, and I was young and naïve, convincing myself she wanted me instead of Hojo and that I could talk her into leaving him. Finally, I realized that she was…” Here, Vincent faltered, unsure how to phrase what he wanted to say – especially when he was saying it to her son.

 _((She liked to fuck pretty people)),_ suggested Chaos. _((And you are certainly that, my host.))_

“Don’t feel you need to spare the truth on my behalf, Valentine,” Sephiroth said. “I didn’t know her.”

But Vincent had, and he didn’t want to give Sephiroth the wrong impression. “She was a woman of great affections,” he said, carefully. “An optimist who believed the best in the world and in everyone she met. She was very physical, and…she. Ah. Enjoyed male attention. Not in a damaging or destructive way, you understand. She always claimed it was simple nature, and pleasure wasn’t something that should be denied or hidden. Nowadays I think they’d say she was _sex-positive,_ but it was somewhat rare for a woman to be so open about it, back then.

“Regardless, Hojo apparently agreed with her. We had one conversation where he confronted me, told me in no uncertain terms that he knew of our affair and that he found sexual monogamy to be pointless and unnatural. He assured me that Lucrecia was free to indulge herself with whomever she pleased, then made sure to point out that my mental shortcomings and status as a ShinRa lapdog meant I’d never be anything more to her than a dalliance.”

_“At least I see the appeal, this time. You’re not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, Valentine, but one can’t say you’re appealing – physically, at least.”_

“My…I’d rather not detail the story of how we all came to be together.” It involved Vincent killing four people who’d ambushed them at the reactor, Hojo being impressed and intrigued by Vincent’s _competency_ , and, later, him walking in on Vincent pleasuring Lucrecia on his knees and her suggesting Hojo join in.

“But we became involved, and I fell in love with them both. Lucrecia, she was easy to love. Hojo…I’m not sure how it happened, to be quite honest. He was the most intense man I’d ever met, and his attention was flattering even if it wasn’t kind.”

Vincent saw Cloud glance briefly at Sephiroth, then turn his attention resolutely back to his swords.

“Things weren’t perfect, but they were good for longer than I think any of us expected. Oh, Lucrecia had a habit of pitting us against each other when she wanted something, because she was resourceful and smart and we always fell for it. But we found a balance…at least for a little while.”

“I’m assuming it was her becoming pregnant that changed all of that?”

Vincent stared for a moment into the fire, watching as the flames cheerfully turned the wood into ash. “It was a factor, certainly. Hojo suffered a case of the mumps as a child in Wutai, and he was sterile. Lucrecia and I were careful, but one night we, ah. Weren’t.” He remembered that night, in the spring, with the three of them. Vincent blushed and continued.

“When she became pregnant, she wasn’t pleased. She wanted children eventually, but not until this project was completed and she’d secured her position. She was always worried about appearing weak because of her gender, and to become pregnant was one thing that she knew would set her back. I’m not sure if that’s true, but it was her opinion and she was very adamant about it.”

“And she never thought of terminating the pregnancy? It seems like the most obvious solution.”

That Vincent’s son could say that so calmly…well, had he expected anything else? He might have been Vincent’s and Lucrecia’s child, but Hojo had raised him. Nurture played as important a role in development as nature, didn’t it?

There was no point in lying, and Vincent had promised to tell the truth so he nodded. “She considered it, yes, but as I said – Lucrecia was an optimist. She wanted a way to keep her baby and her position, and…she honestly thought that Jenova was a Cetra. She thought involving you in the project would allow her to keep her child, save the world, and prove herself. Her enthusiasm was so infectious that it was difficult to tell her no. I argued about the safety of the baby, but she and Hojo both assured me that, at worst, the Cetra genes would be dormant and you would be a normal child. I didn’t know enough to protest and I…wanted you.”

Vincent glanced at his son. “I wanted you. A family. I had one, suddenly, and it became the most important thing to me. I knew, somewhere deep down, there was danger but…I didn’t want Lucrecia to terminate the pregnancy. I let them convince me despite my reservations. It is one of the many sins I will never forgive myself for.”

Sephiroth was looking at him strangely. “You wanted me,” he said, flatly, his tone full of disbelief.

Vincent nodded. “Of course. I would…we would talk to you. All three of us. You weren’t unwanted, Sephiroth. Unplanned for, yes, but the three of us, we…we _wanted_ to love you. I know now, in hindsight, that we were irresponsible, thinking of ourselves instead of what was best for you. But we did want you.”

Sephiroth looked away. The statement had affected him strongly, Vincent could tell. Even Cloud was glancing at him in concern, likely because Sephiroth wasn’t paying him any attention and didn’t notice.

Vincent swallowed past the lump in his throat and forged ahead. “What made everything fall apart was that I came into some information that led me to believe my presence in Nibelheim wasn’t just to keep the two of them safe. ShinRa doesn’t like to have people around who know about their secrets, and it came to light that my job would very likely be clean-up, of a sort, at the end of the project.”

“They wanted you to assassinate Hojo and Dr. Crescent?” Cloud asked, his eyes wide. Then he scowled. “Of course they did. Why am I surprised?”

“This is when the Jenova project was about finding large deposits of mako,” Vincent reminded him. “And that knowledge would have been key to the company’s success and future. It was Veld that told me about the likelihood after learning that we were involved, the three of us, since he was…aggrieved at me for going to Nibelheim to escape one bad attachment and promptly falling into two more.”

“Three,” Sephiroth said, quietly. “If you count me.”

“No,” Vincent said, shaking his head. His voice was firm. “You were not a bad attachment.”

“It’s all right, Valentine. My whole life I’ve thought myself some unwanted brat whose parents sold to ShinRa for a bit of cash.” Sephiroth still wouldn’t look at him. “Until I thought I was….well. You know.”

“Yes,” Vincent said softly. “I know. I also knew, at the time, that if it came out Lucrecia and Hojo’s child was really mine…that would be disastrous. I’d be terminated and there’s no way I could keep any of you safe, and all I’d ever been good at was killing. If I couldn’t do that, what would happen to any of you? I knew that we had to have insurance, and I thought if Sephiroth was valuable to ShinRa, perhaps it would keep him safe.” Vincent’s mouth twisted. “I should have known better.”

“Shiva,” Cloud said, softly. “The lives ShinRa ruined. I probably shouldn’t be glad Sephiroth killed ShinRa, Sr, but I am.”

Sephiroth, still apparently too caught up in the revelations Vincent was spilling like wine, didn’t even acknowledge that comment with a barb or a sneer.

“Shortly into her second trimester, Lucrecia began having nightmares that our child would grow up to commit atrocities. She couldn’t put them into exact words, and it didn’t help that she was sick all the time.” Vincent shook his head. “Things became…very bad. We were all afraid, and making decisions out of fear…well, Turks and scientists both know to keep a level head, and none of us were doing that. We made decisions based on wild, theoretical futures because we did not want to admit what we had done.

“The stress meant the relationship with the three of us deteriorated. I was a nervous wreck, Lucrecia was sick, and Hojo was working constantly to keep any suspicions at bay about the project. After two nights of Lucrecia sobbing and begging me to do something, I told Hojo I was taking her and we were leaving. I was irrational, and Hojo told me to calm down, to think about what I was saying. When I refused he threatened me with a gun that I had given him, and he shot me.

“The next thing I knew, I was bleeding out on the floor with him shouting and Lucrecia screaming. I came to in a mako tank, and they were arguing yet again. To save me, they’d tried all sorts of things and none of it worked; it was Lucrecia’s idea to infuse me with the Chaos entity and the protomateria. My father’s research, on which she was an assistant.” She’d been more than his father’s assistant, but Vincent did not mention that. It was all ancient history, now.

“When Lucrecia released me from the tank, I was terrified. My emotions at the time were volatile and triggered my changing into any number of things, all of them irrational and monstrous. I refused to sleep with Lucrecia and Hojo any longer, terrified I would harm them – and you, Sephiroth. Things became very bad, and both Lucrecia and I begged Hojo to do something. I begged him to do something. I knew that if they took one look at you and knew you were mine…if they knew what had happened, it would all be over. We’d all end up dead.”

How stupid that Vincent had thought there was nothing worse than oblivion. He stared again at the fire and took a moment to collect himself.

“Hojo took you from Lucrecia the night you were born and refused to let her hold you, thinking that if she did not bond with you it might help her deal with the situation in a more ‘reasonable’ fashion.” Vincent’s mouth twisted; he would never forgive Hojo for that simple moment of cruelty, nor himself for allowing it to come to pass.

“He led me to the coffin in the basement and suggested I rest, that I let him ‘make things safe’ for the child. I was stupid and I trusted him, and I did not trust myself or what the…surfeit of emotions would do to me, in my current state. I was prepared to kill Hojo then and take Lucrecia and you, but Hojo told me that Lucrecia was very sick and I had no medical training, reminding me that I tended to change into beasts when I was upset. Lucrecia would die and Hellmasker’s chainsaw would eviscerate our child.”

“Shiva,” Cloud whispered again, shaking his head. His eyes were wide.

“I believed him,” Vincent said, ashamed even now. “And I went into that coffin to sleep. I trusted he would take care of you. He promised he would come back and wake me when it was safe, but he never did. I don’t know if it was simply time that broke him or if something happened, and I don’t suppose I will ever know. He was far beyond sane when we saw each other again, in Midgar on the mako cannon. Either way, you were raised as a lab specimen instead of a child, and that is, and will always be, my fault. I slept when I should have slaughtered anyone who came for you. I slept when I should have taken your mother out of that house. I did nothing and you suffered, and that is one of the sins for which I will never atone.”

There was silence in the room. Vincent’s mouth was dry but he simply swallowed, looking between Cloud and Sephiroth, waiting to hear what they would say.

Sephiroth’s head turned and he regarded Vincent with those beautiful eyes, his face a calm, cool mask that was impossible to read. “May I ask a question?”

“Of – of course,” Vincent assured him, his voice caught, heavy with emotion.

“When is my birthday?”

Oh, _gods._ His own child, and he didn’t even know….!

Vincent rose to his knees and crept toward the chair where Sephiroth sat, took his son’s face in his hand and his claw, and stared into his strange eyes. That was one promise Hojo had kept, if nothing else – they looked nothing like Vincent’s.

Vincent’s, which were now blurry with unshed tears. “You were born on the first day of the year, at three in the morning. And you were born into a house of cowards, a child with so much potential, to people who did not deserve you. I am sorry, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth blinked. He reached out as a tear fell down Vincent’s cheek. “You’re crying. For me. Because of what I became?”

Vincent thought his heart long broken, but apparently that was a lie. Being dead did not stop the pain of hearing that, and pressed his forehead to Sephiroth’s, felt the tears fall on his son’s pale skin, like his own only because he was dead and Sephiroth infused with the cells of an alien, with mako, with all the things Hojo thought might have made him something other than what he was.

“Because of what you should have been.” Vincent’s voice was destroyed. “A child.”

Vincent felt Sephiroth push him back, gently. “There is no point to this,” he said, brushing at Vincent’s cheeks with his thumbs, smoothing away the tears Vincent couldn’t stop. “You have given me answers I have sought all my life. This story is not kind but it is mine, and that is – invaluable, to me. I cannot change the past and I know that. I cannot change what I have done, either, Father, and my sins are much greater than yours. You trusted the promises of a man and a woman you loved. I trusted the words of a calamity that only knew how to hate. Like father, like son, hmm?”

Vincent gave a harsh laugh. He was worn-out; the telling of it was almost as exhausting as living it. He realized how close he was to his son and moved back, or tried – Sephiroth wouldn’t let him. He slid his fingers into Vincent’s hair, and the slight scratch of his nails against Vincent’s scalp made him shiver. He was staring at Vincent so intensely, it made Vincent flush with heat.

It was wrong –

_((Oh, Vincent. Can’t you see past your own gloom to what is – quite literally – staring you in the face?))_

“Your demon is speaking,” Sephiroth said, surprising him. “Your eyes. They turn inward, when you listen.”

That was an astute observation. Vincent nodded. “Yes.”

“And what is it saying?” Sephiroth was so close, his breath warm on Vincent’s face.

“It is telling me I am perpetually gloomy.” Vincent felt his mouth quirk. “Its usual litany.”

_((I’m telling you that you want him, and that he wants you.))_

“I think,” Sephiroth said softly. “I think you are not telling me the truth of what your demon whispers to you.”

“I think,” Vincent said, just as softly, “That I do not wish you to know. I have – what I’ve done to you, it weighs heavily enough on my soul. I don’t wish to add more transgressions to the list.”

“Then don’t,” Sephiroth said, and pulled him forward. “Allow me to do what your demon knows very well I wish to do.”

Vincent knew what was going to happen. Chaos made a soft noise of pleasure in his head, and Vincent trembled as Sephiroth drew him closer and kissed him. He didn’t push him away. He wanted Sephiroth to have what he wanted, anything…

Sephiroth’s kiss deepened. Vincent kissed back, hating himself for how good it felt, letting Sephiroth’s tongue inside to tease his own. Sephiroth’s fingers slid down to Vincent’s neck and drew him closer still.

There was a sound from behind them.

Cloud.

Vincent had forgotten Cloud.

 

 

 

 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Listen to me.” Sephiroth reached out and took Vincent’s chin between his fingers. “You could not have saved me. And it doesn’t matter. The past is over. I have seen your scars and I am still here. I still want you.”_
> 
> _“I still want you, too,” said Cloud, and because he wasn’t nearly as gifted with words, he did the only thing he could think of. He leaned down and began to kiss Vincent’s chest, running his tongue over the edge of the Y-incision nearest to him._
> 
> NSFW content ahoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay -- travel and then the flu had me late with this (and it's basically all NSFW pr0n so, you know) 
> 
> Content Advisory: This is basically Sephiroth/Vincent and Cloud/Vincent/Sephiroth with a *hint* of Cloud/Sephiroth (and a Chaos!Cameo), because Cloud is Cloud so he's being a little stubborn. Warning for NSFW content featuring consensual incest, please be advised.

Chapter 13

For a moment, Cloud wasn’t sure what he was seeing.

Sephiroth wiping Vincent’s tears away, that was one thing – and it was certainly not something Cloud had ever expected to see – but then they were kissing.

Kissing, like Cloud and Vincent had kissed. Even though they were --

Cloud heard the noise he made, saw when Vincent registered it and went still. He turned his head, his eyes very wide. “Cloud,” he said, but that was all, just his name.

Cloud didn’t know what to say. He glanced between them, registering that despite Vincent pulling away, they were still so close, hands on each other. Sephiroth was staring at Vincent with a lustful, hungry expression that Cloud had only ever seen directed at him during battle.

That made him uneasy. The sight of Vincent and Sephiroth kissing, that – made him uneasy, too, mostly because he wasn’t at all surprised. Maybe he’d picked up on subtle signals, or maybe he just wasn’t surprised by anything Sephiroth did any more. It should surprise him, more, about Vincent….shouldn’t it?

Shouldn’t this bother him?

“Don’t hurt Vincent.” Cloud swallowed hard. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

“I’m not trying to hurt him.” Sephiroth’s eyes were still on Vincent’s. He drew his fingers over Vincent’s mouth. “I want him. He wants me. Don’t you?”

“Yes.” Vincent sounded miserable. “I shouldn’t, but gods. I do.” The look he gave Cloud was tortured. “I’m sorry. Cloud, please – I’m weak. I always have been….”

“Hey.” Cloud shook his head, trying to clear it. He couldn’t get the sight out of his mind, the two of them kissing. It was – gods. Gorgeous, even though he knew he shouldn’t think that. “Don’t – I’m not….” He shook his head, again, a little harder this time. “I don’t know what to do right now. Or say.”

“Come here,” Sephiroth said, calmly.

Cloud glanced at him. “Um.”

“Come here, Cloud,” he said, again. Imperiously. “Closer.”

Cloud had no idea why he obeyed; maybe he just wanted to be close to Vincent. He knelt behind Vincent and started stroking his back. “I’m not angry.” Cloud reached around to the fastenings of Vincent’s cowl and began to undo them.

“This – it’s _wrong_ ,” Vincent said, but he did not move. “How can either of you touch me when I have these terrible desires?”

Cloud met Sephiroth’s eyes from his place behind Vincent, finishing up with the cowl. “I don’t think I’m the best person to judge you for wanting Sephiroth.”

“Mmm. So you admit it, my stormcloud.”

Cloud rolled his eyes at the nickname, pulling Vincent’s cowl and working on the cape. “It seems like that’s what we’re doing. Confessing.” He tugged on the red fabric. Vincent was compliant and didn’t resist when Cloud tossed it aside. The last thing he did was pull the band from Vincent’s dark hair.

Sephiroth leaned in to kiss him again, and Vincent did recoil, though slightly. “Sephiroth –”

“I want you,” Sephiroth said, and though he didn’t say it to Cloud, Cloud still felt the reverberations of it through his body, an echo of lust that pooled low in his gut. “No one has ever been mine in the way you are.”

“It is not right,” Vincent protested, still pliant between them.

“Perhaps not. But I don’t particularly care. Do you? We were kept from each other. I won’t be kept from you, not any longer.”

“And you won’t be, but that isn’t – it doesn’t mean---” Vincent trailed off, and Cloud saw that Sephiroth had leaned forward and was kissing at Vincent’s neck. “It doesn’t mean this can happen.”

Cloud couldn’t help himself from reaching out and smoothing Vincent’s hair back from his neck. Vincent tilted his head, his eyes going to Cloud’s. “I – you should be angry at me….”

“I’m not.” Cloud pulled his head back by the hair, gently, and kissed him. He wondered if Sephiroth would be angry. He wondered why he cared, and it made him kiss Vincent with renewed vigor. Almost possessive.

Sephiroth laughed, low and a shade too hungry to be menacing. “Cloud wants me as much as I want you.”

Cloud glared at him, damned by his own silence.

Vincent somehow took the opportunity to get free of them and leaped gracefully to his feet. His eyes were wild. He was, Cloud knew, going to put some distance between them. Stop this – whatever it was – from happening.

If he were smart, Cloud would let him. Sephiroth and Vincent couldn’t – Vincent and Cloud were – it just couldn’t happen. No.

“You said you would show me your scars,” Cloud heard himself say. He didn’t miss Sephiroth’s slow, pleased smile.

“That’s what you want?” Vincent asked, and Cloud wasn’t always the best at understanding subtleties or hidden meanings, but even he knew what Vincent was really asking him. He knew what would happen if Vincent took off his clothes.

And for once, Cloud Strife was tired of fighting. He nodded. “Yeah. If you do, then…so do I.”

Vincent exhaled and glanced at Sephiroth. The hunger on his face made Cloud’s cock tighten. He still wasn’t sure he could touch Sephiroth without it turning violent, but for some reason, he had no such problem when it came to watching Vincent with Sephiroth.

It should bother him, simply from a moral standpoint, shouldn’t it? Vincent was Sephiroth’s father. Granted, Cloud knew nothing about paternal relationships but he didn’t have to have one to know this wasn’t exactly normal.

Vincent sighed. “You will see the monstrous thing that I am, and you will not want to do anything but turn your back on me.”

“I highly doubt there is anything that would make me not want you,” Sephiroth said, moving closer, stalking Vincent almost like a hunter.

Cloud went to Vincent’s other side, and together, they began to take Vincent’s clothes off. Vincent was passive, his head bowed and his expression hidden in the fall of his midnight hair.

When he was naked, Sephiroth urged him to lay back on the bed. He and Cloud stretched out on either side of him, and looked at what was now exposed.  

Cloud had expected it to be bad, and it was. The worst was the red, Y-incision scar vivisecting Vincent’s pale chest, the result of an autopsy performed ostensibly when Vincent was still alive – or perhaps, still sentient. There was the bullet hole from the shot that had felled him, and a thousand other scars slashing down his fair skin. There was something that looked like claw marks high up on his shoulder, ending in a series of cuts on his abdomen.

There were thick, ropey scars on both thighs, and on both of Vincent’s knees. There were even scars on the top of one of his feet. His arms were a mess, and the gauntlet was affixed with what appeared to be metal soldered right onto skin.

Before either of them could speak, Vincent rolled over – not to hide, but to show them his back. The claw marks from his shoulder continued down in fierce angry lines nearly to the swell of his ass. There were two identical cuts on either calf, down to the ankle. His tendons.

Cloud met Sephiroth’s eyes across Vincent’s back. Sephiroth’s narrowed, and he reached out, his long, pale fingers – so like Vincent’s– hovering over skin without quite touching.

“He hobbled me to keep me from leaving, but of course, my tendons grew back.” Vincent’s voice was gravelly and muffled from the bedding. “The scars on my back, from when I was shifting between this form and Gallian. Apparently I tried to claw out my spine.”

Cloud closed his eyes briefly, centering himself. The urge to dwell for a moment on the memory of Hojo’s death was almost overwhelming.  

Vincent rolled over so he was lying on his back. His eyes gleamed, and he wouldn’t look at either of them.

“Hojo did this to you.”

Vincent nodded in answer to Sephiroth’s question. “Yes.”

“He did similar things to me, too.” Sephiroth’s voice was impassive. His fingers were tracing the bullet hole, the Y-incision. “I healed, of course. I remembered when he slit my tendon. I was nine. And he watched me try and crawl across the floor, bleeding. He said, _you won’t scar, but I want you to remember this, Sephiroth. How easy it was to keep you from running away.”_

Cloud heard a sound of a rage and realized it was him. “I’m glad he’s dead. Fucker.”

Sephiroth glanced at him. “Certainly you don’t mean that for my sake, Strife.”

“I mean it for nine-year-old you,” Cloud bit out. “And for Vincent. But I don’t think these scars make you hideous. I think it makes Hojo hideous. I think it just makes you strong that you survived them.”

Vincent turned to glance up at him. He wasn’t stopping Sephiroth’s touch, so Cloud reached down and added his own, tracing the Y-incision. “I’m not strong. If I was, I would have saved Lucrecia. I would have saved our child.”

“Listen to me.” Sephiroth reached out and took Vincent’s chin between his fingers. “You could not have saved me. And it doesn’t matter. The past is over. I have seen your scars and I am still here. I still want you.”

“I still want you, too,” said Cloud, and because he wasn’t nearly as gifted with words, he did the only thing he could think of. He leaned down and began to kiss Vincent’s chest, running his tongue over the edge of the Y-incision nearest to him.

Vincent shuddered, his claw hand sliding in Cloud’s hair. The talons scratched at his scalp, and Cloud found he rather liked how it felt.

“Cloud,” Vincent moaned, but it was not an entreaty to stop.

Cloud felt Sephiroth’s eyes on him and looked up, his expression etched with challenge. Sephiroth leaned down and, amid a fall of silver hair, did the same thing on the other side of the Y-incision scar. Vincent made a low sound in his throat and his human hand came up, grabbing Sephiroth’s hair as they both licked the wicked scar.

Cloud was so close to Sephiroth he could feel his breath. Their eyes met and held. Sephiroth’s were gleaming, and his knowing little smirk made Cloud want to hit him. It also made him grind his hips down against the bed.

“You want me,” Sephiroth breathed, breath fluttering the strands of his hair hanging in his face.

“This is about Vincent, right now,” Cloud growled, his hand rubbing over the scars low on Vincent’s abdomen. “Not us.”

“You fight so hard, my little stormcloud.” Sephiroth reached down before Cloud could hit him for calling him that, grabbing his hand. Unlike Vincent’s skin, which was cool even in the midst of passion, Sephiroth’s burned hot like a flame.

He’d never touched Cloud before, not like – like this. Cloud didn’t know what to do, but he didn’t have much of a chance to think of something before Sephiroth wrapped both their hands around Vincent’s hardening cock.

“Always,” Cloud murmured, his eyes narrowed and caught by Sephiroth’s, as together they stroked Vincent’s cock. He glanced up at Vincent, his expression easing into a smile. Vincent’s head was tossing on the bed, his hand and his claw still buried in Sephiroth and Cloud’s hair, respectively. “Gods. Look at him.”

“You look much better in the throes of passion than angst, Vincent.”

A laugh came from Vincent’s throat, but it wasn’t Vincent.

“I tell him that. And yet. He does not listen.” Vincent’s head raised; his smile was tipped with fangs, his eyes glowing bright amber.

“Begone, demon,” Sephiroth demanded, with the sort of arrogance Cloud expected of him. “I am attending to Valentine now, not you.”

“You didn’t get that pride from your father,” Vincent-Chaos said. The demon’s grin stretched across Vincent’s mouth, too-wide.

“Mmm. Perhaps I got it from the man who raised me?”

Chaos laughed, the sound making the hair stand up on the back of Cloud’s neck – in a way that he was ashamed to admit he enjoyed. Vincent turned his head, and the demon’s bright amber eyes settled on Cloud’s. It was Vincent and yet it was not; the smile was purely inhuman, as was the sound of the demon’s hiss. The tongue that licked out was forked.

“I find I quite like my host brought low by mortal desire. Let it be known that I shall have a taste of you both, later. You make him feel so _many_ things. It pleases me.”

“He’s as fond of monologues as you are,” Cloud murmured softly to Sephiroth, though of course Chaos could hear.

Sephiroth scowled at him, and the demonic entity that was overshadowing Vincent gave one last hiss of laughter and then was gone.

Vincent panted at them, mouth parted, his eyes returning to their usual red. He looked, predictably, like he was going to say something – a protest, or an apology.

Sephiroth spoke up before Vincent could say anything. “Suck him, stormcloud. Show me what he likes.”

Cloud, fed up with the nickname, reached out and took a handful of Sephiroth’s beautiful hair – which was literally everywhere – and _yanked,_ hard. “Stop _calling me that._ ” He pulled harder for good measure, then went still at the outright _moan_ that got out of his nemesis.

“Oh.” Cloud blinked. “You liked that.”

“Which I’m sure means you’ll never do it again, hmm?”

“This is about Vincent,” Cloud reminded him. “But when it’s about us? Oh, yeah. I’ll do it again.” _And again, and again, and…._

Sephiroth smiled at him, all menace and sinister promise, like there blades between them instead of a lover. Cloud thought about how he was going to fuck Sephiroth, with Sephiroth on his back, pulling his hair and forcing Sephiroth to come on his cock – and smiled right back.

_Later. Time for that later._

If he’d ever given a blowjob with someone watching, it certainly wasn’t by choice and Cloud was unaware of when that might have been. But he never would have thought it would arouse him to do something like that under scrutiny; maybe it was because of his audience. Sephiroth, whom Cloud had killed over and over in an act more intimate than sex, was watching him with those mako eyes that burned like fire.  

He said nothing, but a few seconds later Cloud felt Sephiroth’s fingers card through the spikes of his hair as he sucked Vincent’s cock. Then Cloud felt those sinful long fingers rub against his mouth, which was stretched around Vincent’s erection. He knew what Sephiroth wanted and allowed it, hearing the moan Vincent made as he felt Sephiroth’s fingers in the warm, wet heat of Cloud’s mouth, rubbing up against his spit-slick cock.

“Gods,” Vincent gasped. His back was arched, his head fallen back, black hair a dark spill around him. His thighs, beneath Cloud’s hands, were trembling.

Sephiroth removed his fingers, and Cloud didn’t bite since he was also sucking Vincent off – likely the only reason Sephiroth put them there in the first place. But Cloud did give him a lick with his fingers, and he smiled inwardly at the soft hiss Sephiroth gave as he slid them free.

Cloud felt where Sephiroth was pressing his fingers, and Vincent’s hips bucked forward as Sephiroth pressed them inside. He had no idea if one of them was supposed to fuck Vincent, there weren’t battle plans for impromptu threesomes, so Cloud just kept sucking, making it wet and messy and pushing his own hips restlessly against the mattress to ease his own arousal. Vincent liked being fingered, and it was clear Sephiroth was hitting him in the right place with every thrust of his hand.

“I’m – close,” Vincent bit out, his voice dark, a hint of Chaos’s growl overlaying the words.

Sephiroth’s hair got everywhere, and Cloud had to brush it out of his way a few times while he took Vincent’s cock as deep as he could. He wondered how it felt against Vincent’s skin, thought about feeling it on his own, draped over his thighs, his cock --  

Cloud doubled his efforts and he assumed Sephiroth was doing the same; it didn’t take long before Vincent gasped out in obvious pleasure, warmth filling Cloud’s mouth as Vincent’s hips bucked up in one last, desperate thrust.

He’d just eased his mouth off Vincent’s cock when Sephiroth’s fingers were suddenly twined in the spikes of his hair, pulling, pulling – and Sephiroth’s mouth was on his, and they were kissing, Cloud sharing Vincent’s taste with him in a kiss that rocked him to the core of his being, the one Sephiroth used to control with silken strings. Cloud made a noise but he didn’t know if it were angry or desperate, and he didn’t much care.

He pulled away when he needed to breathe, and was both surprised and maybe a little disappointed that Sephiroth let him go.

“Like you said,” Sephiroth murmured, his voice a low warm rumble that went straight to Cloud’s throbbing erection. “We’ll have our time later, little stormcloud.”

“I really hate that nickname,” Cloud muttered, but Sephiroth had turned his attention to Vincent and was no longer listening.

Vincent had pushed himself up on his elbows, his crimson eyes wide, mouth parted as he caught his breath. His dark hair was a messy tangle, his pale, scarred skin flushed. He looked like sex, like sin, so attractive that it seemed almost impossible. Cloud stared at him, unable to really believe he had the right to touch Vincent with his hands, his mouth. The scars did nothing to make him any less beautiful, lent a fierceness to his wild beauty that Cloud found utterly enchanting.  

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” Cloud muttered, then blushed when both Vincent and Sephiroth turned toward him. Of course they’d heard. They both had enhanced senses. There was no point in whispering.

“I’m nothing of the sort, but thank you, Cloud.” Vincent reached out with his human hand for Cloud’s. “Come here.”

Cloud let himself be tugged up next to Vincent on the bed, aroused and a little uncertain what would happen now. It was easy to focus on Vincent, less so on the man on Vincent’s other side. “I – I don’t – I can’t have him touch me. Not – not yet.”

Vincent tipped Cloud’s chin up. The scars on his knuckles were the most faded, as if perhaps they were the oldest of all of them. “Then tell him that, Cloud.”

Cloud glanced over at his nemesis, who was watching with an inscrutable expression. The only evidence of Sephiroth’s arousal was the quickening of his breath, the way his eyes seemed a bit brighter, the slit pupils that were more dilated than usual.

“You don’t wish me to ease your arousal, Cloud?”

Cloud made a face. Honestly.  “I – what? No, I just said I didn’t want you to touch me.”

“Then I won’t touch you,” Sephiroth said, his voice amused. “Lay back. Take yourself in hand. I’ll tell you how to get yourself off.”

“I know how,” Cloud snapped, glaring at him. “I don’t need you telling me anything. I’ve done it before.”

Vincent laughed. “I know how to bring Cloud pleasure. Perhaps I could do so, while you watched.”

“Hmm. Very well. Entertain me.” Sephiroth sprawled in the chair next to the bed, one hand stroking his own erection over the top of his pants. Cloud and Vincent both watched as Sephiroth paused and wrapped several strands of his hair around his wrist –enough so that it pulled when his wrist moved. “What? As you so astutely noticed earlier, I enjoy having my hair pulled.”

Cloud’s mouth went dry at the thought, the image – he gave a little shake of his head and let Vincent push him back on the bed.

Things became confused, after that; Vincent’s mouth on his, his dark hair falling around them both. Vincent’s human hand on his dick and the claw teasing at his mouth, and the weighty, heavy feeling of Sephiroth’s catlike eyes watching, watching. He could hear Sephiroth’s breathing, but Vincent was very good and soon Cloud was tumbling over into orgasm, back arching as he came in Vincent’s fist.

It took, all told, a shockingly short amount of time to get him off. It was the combination of Vincent’s talent with his hand, the cool slide of metal against Cloud’s mouth and the inescapable knowledge that Sephiroth was watching him fall apart.

When it was over, the room was almost too-warm and smelled like sweat and sex. Cloud turned his head and blinked lazily at Sephiroth, sprawled obscenely with his pants open and shoved down his thighs. His softening cock was bared to Cloud’s gaze, nestled in a patch of silvery hair.

Cloud looked up at Sephiroth.

“If you make a joke about the carpet matching the drapes,” Sephiroth said, pointing at him. He was clearly still catching his breath, strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty face. Even Calamity’s Son looked human with his pants down.

“You’ll what?” Cloud smiled. Then he laughed. The absurdity of the situation, of that comment, it was all too much. He threw a hand up over his eyes and laughed, laughed until the rest of the tension drained from his body.

He didn’t remember falling asleep.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
